MY MEXICAN ELLIPSE
Luck brings this morning passing
strange, a break I'd not foreseen -
the girl with cornrow hair now
whistling some turgid tune.
Each synapse I own declares:
'Race this moment to its finish,
and you are nothing if
not what you seem.'
Luck brings this morning passing
strange, a break I'd not foreseen -
the girl with cornrow hair now
whistling some turgid tune.
Each synapse I own declares:
'Race this moment to its finish,
and you are nothing if
not what you seem.'
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