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ππΆπ»πΊ ππ¦π³ππͺπ―π΄π¬πΊ
Poems
Nov 2017
She gripped my hard, wood pole. She lifted it and checked.
"Here," I said, "it's on this end."
She frowned. "I'm sorry," said she, "I can't reach it."
I could see that she needed me to turn it. "Better?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, "it has scanned at the clearance price of five dollars."
I was relieved, as this was the last wooden flag pole that Lowe's had.
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Maggie Gonzalez
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