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A Poem by C.B.
A cross-step, two and threeand a line down the centerWell-formed, a tempered balladplays from a record,It cracks like a log in a fire pit,siphons and ..
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A Poem by C.B.
to the man selling shirts on the bus:i'm sorry i don't have five dollars to buy your silly tourist tee-shirt. (it's tacky. and ps- i live here.)i'm so..
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