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don’t like restaurants
are full of people
who could have stayed
at home and cooked
your underwears me down
with it’s expectation of
fulfilment, but I’m just not in the mood
right now I’m reading
why call murderers butchers,
    when we get our lamb chops
from the butchers, and very nice they are, too
    few, those old shops   ..
the angry knocking
and the insistence
I open the door

couldn’t help wondering
what was behind it
a man of letters
who pens
upon
trivial matters in convivial inns
where his life is spent
almost invariably
in tatters       ..
love to walk alone
through the city
streets are not just for grown
ups a daisy!
alas
a loss
unless
undressed
the poor old
chap was loved
I guess
her curls
in swirls
around his chest       ..
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