complicated parameters





5




10




15




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I remember the first time we met,
you were holding a doorknob.
(But that was awhile ago, wasn't it?)

My uncle played golf with Bill Murray,
your uncle watched as the Wall fell.
I'm mixing up words in conversation;

but but but (but nothing)
your whispers, and my musical tastes,
we talk and walk and talk about

that boy, this boy,
that girl, she said what,
and whoever spoke of us?

Kisses are more fun than speech.
You are a tricky girl
caught in tricky situations.

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Draft 3
by Cyle Gage
on 12.10.07

Views: 595

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This poem is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution