Teenage love poems
middleage angst poems
oldage death poems
seems a miserable straighjacket
even if you can
wiggle your fingers
of course, it aint right
you can hardly move your arm
without hitting a teenage
angst or death poem
But it does seem to net
the butterfly of intent
fairly well
Made me think:
but how do I
clap my hands around
twenty five years of love
my arms arent that wide
I can barely see
the boundaries
between her and me
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