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poem for dad

vivido por la orilla
bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
podríamos sino saber
dígame no
como él de quién alcohol en el resplandor del mediodía
vi la primera pera
dígame
tenía un sueño y me desperté con él
para entonces fuera
suavemente llorando
en sus regimentals desiguales
vea, ellos vuelven

 



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