They were like old cars
left to the desert:
doors gone, headlamps
smashed, tires
kneeling in the sand.
Too drunk even to beg
change, they sat on the stone
steps of an abandoned bank
and passed a bottle
between them.
People in the street
looked away. Nobody knew
where they came from
or where they were
going.
Just three lost kings
following their star.
Three kings
who never found
their Bethlehem.
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