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Click hereFOR A SOCIAL WORKER 7312240TT/LAW
By JCSTREET ©
We couldn’t live together and
after drifting
apart like dodgems couldn’t
live that way either . . . I
follow women on the street afraid
to admit they’re not you, Ann
says there’s a man in Vancouver
whose morning whiskers
gouge your belly where
my head once lay, in
the end I am left only
with your Christmas gifts the
shirt faded, the Dunhill lighter
pockmarked but still
a warm fire in the night
--30-- December 24, 1973, Ottawa
This poem was selected from Lit's archive of over 39,000 poems for inclusion in today's Archival Review.<br>
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Thank you for sharing it, the emotions clearly echo through the words, affecting the reader.
lead me to one explanation. Sometimes life sucks. Thanks Jim, I share your sadness.
I seen and felt less than you, but I know the road you
just paved so beautifully.