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When When I win the lottery I'll sleep in a house Decorated with glass unicorns; Each pointed horn a reminder of a sharp jagged sorrow I stumbled upon along my path; The rusted poetry in my head will be replaced by strawberry-flavored sonnets; My brilliant thoughts will spill from soda fountain pens, frothy and overflowing; My soles will be harbored in fine leather shrouds, the latest shades of coffee and crimson quickly tip-tapping along Fifth Avenue I'll have somewhere to be upright and visible to the millions of faces who step over my body each day; My teeth will be straight and white and the boy on the corner who sells magazines can't help but return my smile; Today he'll notice my eyes are blue when he places the correct change in my clean and polished hand; When I win the lottery, this newspaper sheltering my head will be balled up and tossed in the flames raging in my marble fireplace; then after my meal, I'll sit and warm my feet on yesterday's words and worries |
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