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Aug 2016
Muriel, it’s been forty-four years and
I still think about you everyday.
I met you in the rain on the last day
of 1972, the same day I resolved to **** myself.
You were the **** store employee
wearing a chartreuse shirt. I was, of course,
the naked thirty-something with a few good teeth,
unafflicted by any social diseases.
You told me I had great veins.
This is a found poem.
Phoebe Seraphine
Written by
Phoebe Seraphine  Washington, D.C.
(Washington, D.C.)   
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