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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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