At the edge of swamp, marsh and bog
Nested amid rambunctious honeysuckle vines
Tipped onto its broken side
Locked door pried open
Racks empty of bottles and desolate
Moneybox forlorn and bankrupt
Machine once bright and slick
Red and white and shining chrome
Not the commercial declaration dull
Broken, abandoned and rusted through
Still proclaiming the message
Drink Coca Cola.
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