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he said I don’t know why
I ever went out with you ..
she said but you didn’t go out
with me, we just happened
to leave at the same time  ..
looking back
on our old haunts
me still    ..
we brush against each
other
than that there is
nothing  ..
as she closed the
door behind her
mind was made up
opened a bottle of scotch
“how’s that going to help?”
ever tried drinking this stuff
with the lid on    ..
why do people dislike politics
so much that they
prefer mob rule over civilised debate
is better than hate
people tend to comment on
the content or subject of a poem,
rather than the form or the style
it out, mate, style it out
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