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I can’t take my eyes off a tall blonde with green eyes. I catch her eye.

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In the dread / of night, navigate by the sliver moon

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I tell my friend, the animal lover, not to get too near the panther's cage. "Why not?" she asks. "You'll see," I say.

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He drove down there in his truck the second time. Didn't want to get anywhere near that snooty car of hers.

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March 16, 2006 My mail, e-mail, and phone calls go from the ridiculous to the sublime. Apologies for the cliché, but I can't resist its perfect applicability: In my mailbox today yet another catalogue of boob jobs in bikinis and an invitation to explore…

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The love of hundreds of people, seemingly, rain down from the sky, but its not like when the cock hits the good spot inside you. And everybody who is reading this knows this is true. We all know what that feels like, that aha moment, that eiphany, like,

Cymbals Guy

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cymbals guy — another way of saying hey turdshitface haul your skinnyass to the front of the bus.

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He was on his way home from school on a dank winter afternoon when the attack came from nowhere, launched like a missile across the Gaza Strip. Suddenly he lay on his back with Jonathan Love pounding him in the face.

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what drives them here?

Things I Should Have Done - #4

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I should have created a first-date questionnaire heartaches ago.

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pressing my hands into the voice in the bed,

Strange Fruit of Unrewarded Labor

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Poets are more like Jesus,/ suffering the cross

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what smells like love may not be love at all

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naturally, the windowless ones are the worst.

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That night he dreamed about a duel with toothbrushes....

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The so-called good, a weak but whiny lot, who actually clung to that abstract of "justice for all," would tattle to Mrs. Pufry...Mzzz Puffy, she hit me...Mzzz Puffy he said the bad word...Mzzz Puffy, I gotta go...Mzzz Puffy, Thomas is hanging in the cloak

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They meant no harm when they flooded farms in its swirls and eddies

It Stops

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His face is lined, lost, resigned,

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Try it with and without/ middle name or middle initial.// Try different keywords.

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I thought each day died inside the clock.

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Sharpie marked, Free Still Works

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Maybe the thing is over by now. They have gathered up all the pictures and mementos of our dad’s life and hauled them away.

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saw the world was a mess I did nothing about it, poured myself some apple juice

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