THE PITYING ANGLE
Don't cry for me, Margarita. Either.
For I am not your home. Undaunted by
my civil war, I walk the straight stretch
simply. There's a lady in the closet,
where the doors are opened up. We've
got blood in the bank, and a history
lesson for sure at every bend.
-
I'll think I'll go outside a while and greet
the morning : larkspur and whippoorwill,
weeping willow and grinding mill.
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