MAGIC IN ALL THE FOX-HOLES
Drafts in all the edgings and still
another story around each bend.
It's like living in slumberland for
me. I grope, but I just can't see.
-
There's a man selling breakfast-buns
from a cart - another foreign influence,
or something from afar - but none
of that matters now since we've
all become as one.
-
I can't imagine elopement, nor any
sort of just running off : Tweezers
aren't chopsticks, and they don't
help with the broth.
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