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Poem of May 28

Tunnel vision all around me pushes the anterior holster to reject any summer merchandising. it’s egregiously cruel when the only warp fastener trips both buttons. I wish for a penitence of sorts, but I know that idiopathic irony stands directly in the way. Peter had warned me of this on his 62d birthday, but I paid no heed, thinking instead of the ballast canary in full flight. So now I stand wistfully at attention, waiting for the next surge of loose change.