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sap
now, apocalypse
mysloppylove
He enters my thoughts
Unconsciously;
His lanky form flashes or drifts by
(depending on the hour).
I savor these glimpses.

I make up songs about being in love
With a boy like him,
About how our talking is drenched
In laughter and pale blue comfort.
He's got crooked teeth
And an upright spirit.
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