In the crowd at the station,
A tall man turned and smiled at me.
Although I couldn't be quite sure,
I felt I'd seen his face before.
Two days later,I saw him again,
Getting off the Agra train.
He smiled once more, and this time
I returned the compliment,
Before he was lost in the crowd.
And then I remembered.
Of course!
This was one of the dead men
We'd had for dissection.
I'd been Demonstrator then.
I remember saying:
"here's a fine-looking corpse."
And then we peeled his skin away,
And cut him up,a little every day.
Now I don't go near the Agra train.
I wonder:
Will he smile when i see him again?
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