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Broke Two old pay checks That cannot be cashed You steal your housemateís nickels Anotherís soda borrow a spoon Run upstairs with a bowl of cereal. Hiding under the covers You watch your first snow Attempt to survive on the ground Thwarted by the relative heat And the weight of the next arriving flake. Not enough change for the bus For the ride downtown To share the snow with others You cannot watch their faces Reflect the pain of the fallís end. But they have seen this many times Still you long to be lost In the shuffle of the penniless. Perhaps you should take To the streets yourself beg Plant your fist in someoneís back Take what is not yours. You will not do things Not yet as long as You have those words Yet to be written Demanding to make sense Of the mysteries of the snow Or soothe that lonely cramp. The snow begins to stick In layers they lose themselves To find their common purpose The words try to teach you yours.
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