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Not So Perfect Talking on the phone to a girl who's phone number I recently got, I thought I had the perfect line. She sent me her poems in the mail the week before. Horrible poems about "life like a burning rose" and, "bleeding dirty smiles." I offered to take her to the bar, buy drinks, and edit the poems. She said no. I then asked what other guy would offer to do such a thing. She said her poetry professor back in college took her to the bar and he spoke fluent French. This wouldn't have been as bad if my ex-girlfriend didn't leave me for a French exchange student back in college. To get even I sent all her poems to dozens of zines. Collected all the rejections and sent them to her house. She called and said rejections don't mean anything. Her poetry professor told her that. It didn't matter. She was writing a novel.
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