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Trinity Why canít I dissolve my body into three one-third shells of me, each to be one third alive and one third here, when what heart I have is divided thus: One for my lover, One for the woman who left me, One to trawl the streets and bars? Iíd be no happier, and no more complete, But each third would be sated, And I would no longer be distracted and confused by each clamouring and scrambling one over another like children squabbling for my attention, And I might no longer be always one third happy and two thirds dissatisfied, two thirds itching, two thirds longing, in whichever bed I sleep.
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