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don't look twice, it's all right old turns to new and the parade at the door rides the bent spoke of time, familiar and yet completely fresh; dripping with pasta and plato spouting dylans (both tom and bob) and sporting the dew of the grassy knoll like a crown, still gleaming after all these years paint is pealing its loud clang of decades the couch is cast in the shape of asses of long excised articulate ghosts folks come by for blackberry tea and to slap new faces on campaign signs thick with winners and losers of past flashes of hope welcome bring the cooler; we will sit outside and drink deeply of one calorie sprints and macrobiotic feats while we bask softly in each others' dreams |
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