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used to hit the keys
on that old type writer
until it eventually gave in
and said what I wanted
it’s here
your
underwear
you left
it     ..
I want to hear your voice
above all else, so shout, my
love, shout my love !
you get that little puff
of air
as the tube train doors
open

it’s no wonder they
gasp
those ghosts who drag open
the doors
watching you pull up
your tights as I
lie beneath the quilt in the half
light of the morning
think you have right
on your side, try spending time with
a few of the
wrong people entirely, darling      ..
sitting in the pub
thinking of my wife at
home half past
four in the afternoon
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