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One of Two Things

first it was . . . .
do I really want to and sit
and listen to some asshole
talk about themselves
for two hours 
just so I can get laid ? 

then it was . . . . 
damn - it's so beautiful 
smooth, clear and soft
the taste of winter
in the smell of 
wood smoke
and drifting fresh baked bread
stars so brittle and 
creeping around the edge
of day sliding into night

it's times like this  
I used to get lonely

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