March 24

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It’s a real bitch to start a fire
in the damp don’t I know

and yet when you smile
I remember it’s happened before–

at least I think it was a smile
it’s sometimes hard to tell

with sidelong glances
(If I could I’d blush I’m sure)

this a more enjoyable
sort of floating

softening from sad
and sodden

to a nearly glad
and the sillier soppy

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