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Loved Poem No. 2

Of all the things
to be careless, the
distance chose you,
became rough with
a haughty splendor
unseen since your first
days of pen and pulse
and pendulum strokes
of maybe she will
and maybe she
don't. Always a
nice chin to keep up,
an appearance neither
too wet nor too
yours. Come, share with me
these dancing streaks.
I don't feel like leaving
before I know
the brush.