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| Bus poetry |
| I met myself once on a bus to somewhere, and I was dirty and my hair was long, but I was much thinner than I am now, and it was comforting. Suddenly the lights were all green and gold, and as I looked as them I knew that I would meet myself again somehow. So I laughed at the moon, the inconstant moon, and although the music was ugly, everything was beautiful, inside of an hour. |
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