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you told me of your
utter distaste for any kind of
poetry
at all,
even mine. I laughed.
"don't read me that
s***!" you said and
so I didn't tell you
how my memories of
you are scattered like
sparrows in the rain
or how your laugh
reminds me of
sugar-spun cotton.
I simply sat and
listened in quiet admiration as
your telephone wire
breath landed gently
in my ear.




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