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Often these days
the following genuine sentiment
Matthew Scott Harris
doth wish to share one son,
cuz twenty years after mother succumbed
courtesy of terminal illness
that ravaged her body.

I still reckon how yours truly
shrugged off proffering
tender loving care
within whose womb,
this sole prodigal son wannabe born,
thus shouldered with self scorn
and now two decades later,
the grief and regret not so heavily worn,
nevertheless I consider myself
less familiar to thy mama
than her hats (no surprise,
she got known
as the hat – trick - lady) on a rack
(built by papa)
that donned yorn head
and trumpeted the presence
of a free spirit.

He (the writer of these words) clearly recounts
as if her death occurred yesterday...,
(when all mine troubles
moost definitely not far away)
last remaining grains sands of time.

Imagine an hourglass
where fine granules
trickle from one to another
(upper to lower) bulbed chamber
just prior when coroner decrees death,
yet an opportunity prevailed
wherein said self (me) chose
NOT to stand vigil at deathbed
of she begat
an older and younger daughter
(mine sibling sisters).

Last breath(s) expelled while mama
tethered to machines,
one or more helped diminish
agonizing, depressing, and writhing
pain and discomfort
racked once fitness
and health conscious
industrious, tenacious, and vivacious body,
which malignant terminal illness
(no joke) riddled a former robust
Arthur Murray ballroom dance instructor
(think approximately
threescore and ten years past),
whose flirtatious demeanor
instantaneously caught fancy of handsome
twenty something papa at his prime.

Before rigor mortis quickly
stole precious lifeblood, and
final minutes ticked away until
countdown to... realm of absent consciousness
scant moments before subtle transition
slipped our beloved mother into deadzone...,
neither final adieu, caress, grief...,
nor poem written...
never communicated to deceased,
not an iota of sorrowful lament
bequeathed, prevailed, relinquished...
over lifeless body (mommy dearest)
relegated limp suddenly cold stone body,
where morgue aged (mortgaged) corpse
interestingly enough principally
kept in cold storage
(despite aversion to frigid air
exhibited by mama)
preparatory to cremation process.

Rather... suppressed resentment
exhibited itself at 1148 Greentree Lane
(partial listed then abode -
Matthew Scott Harris,
plus his family resided)
by mister recalcitrant,
felt ambivalent carte blanche blasé affection
regarding once young bride,
(who smothered cingular heir insync
with dada i.e. Boyce Brandon Harris),
cuz he (yours truly overstayed
livingsocial under same roof as parents,
which happenstance (in tandem
with the Leiper's preference
for their demesne plus
one hundred acre estate called Glen Elm
before being purchased by –
I believe a local
within Southeastern Montgomery County,
Pennsylvania realtor
named Donald Neilson, but do not quote me)
situated at 324 Level Road.

Both thee aforementioned
supposed biological guardians
railed, screamed, tormented (albeit verbally)
yours truly, upon mine eighteenth birthday,
when great expectations greatly exacerbating
emotionally hard times,
which ill suited poet de jure
experienced, brickbats rained
down upon these
(considerably mooch younger) lovely bones
whose anger (mine) smoldered
linkedin to constant epithets of expletives
out the mouths of those who begat me,
subsequently their livid with rage
tsunami festered within every
holy Mole (he) molecule
within mine atomized corporeal being
manifesting itself as deprivation
to embrace dear mama
attended at hospital with
both non twisted sisters;
one hailed from Woodbury, New Jersey
and the younger one staked out
modest home within Bend, Oregon,
meanwhile thee grim reaper
did patiently scythe before soon
nonchalantly heading back
to his old curiosity shop,
a rather bleak house, I now conclude.
plus I batten down the itty bitty hatches
courtesy Avast Random Password Generator,
and keep track of alphanumeric
near impossible to crack passwords
incorporating a special symbol
such as exclamation point
painstakingly recording passwords
courtesy OpenOffice document.

a couple of instances experiencing
getting the MacBook Pro hacked
linkedin to vulnerable
and susceptible access to my computer
learned me to bolster
and heavily defend
against cyber intruders
by additionally purchasing applications
such as MacKeeper
and Safe Central for Aol
the former program
manually and daily executed,
while the latter program
automatically activated at startup
soon after I turn on the computer.

generally speaking
ever since purchasing my first Macbook
close on the heels of fifteen years ago,
I pride Apple on their craftsmanship
even if their trademarked products
assembled courtesy automation,
which state of the art production facility
primarily manufactured overseas
according to a February 10, 2025 Google search,
whereby according to a new supply chain report,
Apple is reportedly
shifting its production strategy
by scaling back its plans to expand MacBook
manufacturing in Vietnam
while placing greater emphasis on India.

as a long time devotee
for a company
approaching fiftieth anniversary
since being incorporated
as Apple Computer, Incorporated
on January 3, 1977,
without doubt, I intend
to make my next purchases
(for the rest of my life)
a laptop computer
branded, minted, and stamped
with globally recognized
trustworthy iconic Apple logo,
a bitten apple, grew out of an idea
initially presented in 1976,
when Ronald Wayne,
one of Apple's co-founders,
designed a logo featuring Isaac Newton
sitting under an apple tree.

This logo depicted the famous scientist
and his discovery of gravity.

However, Steve Jobs wasn't satisfied
and sought a simpler, more modern logo.

In 1977, Rob Janoff, a graphic designer,
created the current bitten apple logo,
which got introduced
with the Apple II computer.

Unbeknownst to me,
then (upon advent of my debut)
or now as a threescore
and six year old contemplative,
intuitive, and ruminative
smart 1959 Caucasian diminutive model
prone to daydream
and dawdle as I waddle
like the chipper robot I am,
a helpmate for persons
taking a major exam
crafting a monologue for an imam,
and subsequently sending
said valorized, optimized,
italicized, and digitized communiqué
to above holy Muslim leader,
especially one succeeding Muhammad
as leader of Shiite Islam
also I got (the whole
webbed wide world
in my bionic hands) designed created
and equipped with buzzfeeding
and distributing blueprints
for 3D printing housing accommodations
to safeguard devout followers
from elements of nature
within a tricked out ashram
with latest sophisticated
telecommunications potential.
The following account predicated on partial fact and a healthy dose of prevarication with an attendant overactive imagination.

Trying to REM ember the waking stage of an emotionally tormenting dream

One week later
still dog-tired after jarring telephone ordeal
(seven days ago from April 30, 2025)
with fake government employees,
yours truly still emotionally haggard
trembling and wretched
closely following on the figurative heels
of FaceBook account of mine getting hacked,
whereat my psyche got hijacked to Cuba.

I fell prey to innocuous text messages
sent to my FaceBook messenger account
by person(s) unknown,
which promised a boatload of money
one quick get rich scheme
supposedly no strings attached
of course the wary and suspect
immediately read thru the lines,
and saw the scam for what it was.

I learned the hard way
courtesy supposed special federal agent
Carlos A. Briano linked into
hashtagged badge identification 437409,
who tried to implicate me
and/or in conjunction
with criminals on the loose,
who stole my identity
for egregious purposes
such as money laundering
and selling illegal contrabands.

Official sounding acronyms
bandied about (to and fro,
hither and yon) in tandem
with interjected convincing sounding
emphatic threats of jail time
gave muscle and heft,
and ample material to mine
for months worth of telehealth therapy
courtesy CHE Behavioral Health Services.

No police people
came knocking on our door
one bedroom apartment unit labeled b44
coming to take me away
to be imprisoned
with heavily pierced
and tattooed criminals
hashtagged as *******
bullying, once upon a time a wimpy kid,
who grew into an older shy
Norwegian Bachelor farmer
frequently and nevertheless repeatedly
targeted by fraudsters,
which psychological torture
attributed to series of unfortunate events -
mainly unfairly accused
as complicit and accessory
of serious offenses
found yours truly
to be falsely accused
courtesy stolen identity (mine)
brutalized by nasty and short thugs
while behind bars,
where accidentally linkedin
with high crimes and misdemeanors
eventually inured me against punishment
(videre licet pummeled
into matted pulp) de jure
factor post traumatic stress
a major reason without rhyme
explaining current resultant languor
with just energy and panhandle
holding up a placard reading
"please help me Mister Postman,
cuz I am poor."
unexpectedly came about,
when possible prospect
of the wife going
to Puerto Rico by herself
(for a fêted celebration
of our eldest daughter
and her significant other,
which occurred years ago
courtesy justice of the peace)
attended by family and friends
across the webbed wide word
found me positing how I would feel
staying back at the apartment alone
for a couple of days -
maybe a week at most
enjoying a quasi
short lived bachelor existence -
fending for myself,
which would mean
subsisting on a diet constituting
opening a can of whole cranberry sauce,
or other fruits or vegetables ad nauseum
for breakfast, lunch or supper.

Upon the possibility,
where circumstances could find me
free and clear
from the nagging persistence
hearing "Matt"... "Matt"... "Matt"...
called out by the spouse,
plus various and sundry
other quirky behavior she playfully displays,
the sentiment of missing such annoying
ofttimes hounding, prodding characteristics
would sorely be missed,
though I rarely if ever communicate
any strong compassion
towards the woman,
(whose troth pledged
not quite thirty years ago)
continually in my close proximity.

Though our marriage
devoid of physical intimacy wife
get along swimmingly,
we exhibit less strife
than days of yore effulgence promulgated
to all readers unbeknownst to human life
form characterized by bloke,
whose words appeared across screen
exemplifying, embodying, and edifying
regarding beloved simian counterpart
bandying playfully sometimes
drubbing and drumming my body
while she emulates sounds of fife.

Although she ranks
as a fine prairie home companion since
July twenty fifth nineteen ninety six
a tad more than five months
(not quite to the day) before
"star student" birthed
on December twenty second,
now gainfully employed
at Certified B-Corporation
initially stationed since being hired
within San Francisco, California,
but presently employed in New York City.

The missus madder than a raging (red) bull
visa vis upon discovering mine absence
(cuz I slept in the basement
at 724 Railroad Avenue)
how wretched and dull
being married and celibate,
hence yours truly sought full
fill mint outside the marriage,
yet unbeknownst to this husband
an automatic, fatalistic,
and opportunistic hull
king, quaking, and vociferating wife
gave me a thrashing tongue lashing harangue
verbal dressing down, I betrayed,
coveted another woman
flaunted sacred pact
and will (as good as) hang,
analogously like being in league
with wanted villain,
who committed nefarious misdeed
which ****** imbroglio,
albeit (nocturnal escapade) did boomerang
in earshot of both
our young daughters ****** ears,
thus a sudden pang
to exit the scene arose up inside me
courtesy wishful trapdoor to appear suddenly,
(whereby regarding floorboards)
from out mine overactive imagination sprang
open to usher, and/or time travel back
to earlier that fateful night rather than lang
whooshing amidst livid rage
self serving deserved fiery emasculation,
the noose hence I did stage,
experiencing withering, twittering,
snapchatting, kickstarting blistering
expletive laced epithets think
ready to burst pressure cooker
evincing dangerously hot level gauge
driving figurative wedge
between me family
courtesy foaming at the mouth spouse
(of course deux progeny affected)
renting asunder and rendering hollow
thee justice of the peace
gordian tied, uttered,
vouchsafed worded oath I did pledge.

Divorce prematurely *******,
yet instantaneously dismissed
no more pleasant alternative spewed versus
contracting cankerous cyst
analogous to toxic mother
of our two offspring hissed,
particularly the first born offspring
disparaging me directly linkedin
with promiscuous tryst
me honestly, lamely, meekly
justifying philandering gist
cuz gal methought
(good idea mister casanova wannabe),
which came as soliloquizing aside
to exchange as bartered bride
thine scorned wife,
who would relentlessly chide
(even long after the day I died)
abominable behavior, I do readily admit
figuratively found me electrified
what with raging testosterone nsync with
hormonal secretion my guide
****** gamboling, I chose not to hide
never back once black traipsing inside
double entendre meant
viz yule eyes joyride
horizontally we and the mistress lied
without prejudice but lacking pride.
I led a boring life.
The end.

All joking aside, now the epilogue.

As a bookish fellow born January 13th,1959
he attended school and got promoted
as a mediocre student,
who honestly nearly failed every grade
courtesy my nasty, short
and brutish doppelgänger,
who nixed, sabotaged, waylaid
me a little boy blue
(nothing but a representation of innocence),
who felt depressed
at the prospect of experiencing childhood's end,
and essentially tried to starve himself to death
courtesy Anorexia Nervosa
but mother dearest intervened
being a licensed practical nurse
whipped up in the blender
heaping spoonfuls of bananas,
molasses, wheat germ, et cetera
a veritable smoothie
à la pureed fruit drink
(harkening popularity
of said liquid refreshment
in Mediterranean
and Eastern cultures for centuries),
nevertheless, she possessed alchemical wizardry
to turn straw into gold,
she learned secret from "Rumpelstiltskin,"
matter of fact
as first and only born son
of Harriet and Boyce,
they willingly surrendered
their scrawny screaming newborn
to the imp of the pervert brainchild
(predicated upon phrase caveat emptor)
of an anonymous author popularized
courtesy a German fairy tale
collected by the Brothers Grimm in the 1812,
hence no surprise
the biological woman
(then in her mid/late thirties)
who birthed me
in the webbed wide world,
possessed the knick knack paddy whack
ways and means
to make grim reaper skadaddle
and make him temporarily scarce
during his debut appearance,
nevertheless suicidal ideation
schemes brooded but never hatched
nor became manifest destiny
throughout mein kampf
though the thought
to overdose on fluoxetine
(generic for Prozac)
does flit hither and yon,
to and fro within the nooks and crannies
of sixty six year old
nearly petrified gray matter,
which body electric of mine
will be dedicated to science
with the knowledge me Abby Normal brain
bringing descendent of Doctor Victor Frankenstein's
tech savvy monster of the future
to life, liberty
and the pursuit of happiness
purely generated like fine spun gold,
courtesy artificial intelligence,
yet possessing a characteristic glimmer
of the donor's aura, charisma,
karma, persona, et cetera,
an unexceptional human,
he Matthew Scott Harris
led (and still lives)
a humdrum existence
(fifty years ago the tract
and once sprawling estate
known as “Glen Elm”
happened to be in the sticks)
within southeastern
Montgomery County Pennsylvania
smarting from continually exhibiting hesitancy
to engage in the thick scrum of life
rather yours truly
figuratively and literally sat on the sidelines
never being asked
to join patriot or reindeer games,
and when I got reluctantly linkedin (courtesy default)
with a particular team,
the other members
frowned and rolled their eyes
and sighed with resignation
stuck with the last person picked
aware that an immediate deficit
got consigned to them
guaranteeing disruption
to unbroken winning streak
acquiring the appellation of "loser"
and other attendant colorful epithets
long before Trump
popularized said sobriquet
even though both my parents
contributed their fair share
of verbally traumatizing mine psyche,
allowing, enabling and providing myself
as figurative punching bag,
nevertheless I out did receiving abuse
inflicting denigration of self by a long stretch
courtesy chance discovery
of self directed emasculation
experiencing emotional death by a thousand cuts
permanently scarring the body, mind,
and spirit triage
of he who wrote these words,
which modus operandi of literary expression
offered him, especially in his later life
(after the passing of those
who begat him and eagerly subscribed
to the biological urge to reproduce and adage
"be fruitful and multiply,"
a phrase from Genesis 1:28 where,
a blessing and a command
related to procreation and population growth)
a catharsis and therapeutic exercise.
Preface: On the evening of April 14, 1865, while attending a special performance of the comedy, "Our American Cousin," President Abraham Lincoln was shot.

President Abraham Lincoln died approximately nine hours after being shot at Ford's Theatre. The assassination occurred on the evening of April 14, 1865, and he was pronounced dead at 7:22 am on April 15, 1865.

Curtain call -
Ford's Theater, April 15th, 1865...
Petersen House, Washington, D.C.
death prevailed across linkedin land
after bulletin screamed
out the barrel into revered occupant
seated within the state box,
the flag-draped theatre boxed booth
located in the balcony
to your right as you face the stage,
courtesy a single-shot,
.44-caliber Deringer pistol
with stony gall.

I admit to own a passion
for the Civil War in general,
and the life and death of
the sixteenth president in particular
between a hard spot of whiskey
and draughts of arrack;
nonetheless (without doubt), this Yankee
would be fain to travel back
to Antebellum America
amidst the urban din and clack
where smelting earsplitting,
choking industrialization
a deaf fin hit drawback,
and where dark shadows cast an eternal
edge of night twilight zone pallor
tubby somewhat exact
from mighty robber barons,
who tolerated no flack
(nope not even Roberta)
despite the bleeding nose against grindstone
inhumanity bearing down hard
with very little giveback
viz zit head as greenback
yes...no matter the noxious
crash course urbanization
(and attendant ghettoization)
breeding a lung wrenching tuberculosis hack,
this twenty first century middle aged
married man (an average Monterey Jack
***), whose sought after
claim to fame penchant
modestly admits to **** knack
crafting literary concoctions with no lack
of ideas, where one arose
strong as an oncoming mack
truck (this vibrant fascination
with the American Civil War
(even before Ken Burns popularized
global tragedy that affected
the webbed, wide world then and now
calamitous, iniquitous, and  
ubiquitous event) in non black
and white (digitally remastered technicolor)
exemplified, enumerated, and emphasized
how a minor dispute got way off track
whereat stately commander in chief did pack
a punch analogous sans, barreling forth
like unstoppable quarterback
despite his six foot four inch
gangly physique cull rack
tried his darnedest,
(or substitute unprintable epithet)
yet a coterie of anti war subjects
figuratively and literally up in arms
wanted nothing less to sack
the sixteenth president,
whose aged fifty seven year old countenance
one month after
Ides of March death didst dance
during the low key celebration sans,
internecine bloodbath Grants'
and Lees' armistice
one hundred and fifty seven years ago;

the peace treaty signed
(April 9th, 1865) at Appomattox,
an irrevocable agony did blow
when that fateful, mournful,
somber night at Ford's Theater
the grim reaper didst appear
(like Jim) crow king
ably linkedin with Reconstruction
after one shot rang out blasting,
where crimson tide didst flow
drowning American history
at that juncture grow
wing no less painless today, which hoo
veer ring agony didst smite
incomprehensible cleft mow
wing down unfinished ambition, which no
one other than Abraham Lincoln could sow
the racial rift, that slavery trucked in tow
generations shackled with compounded woe

that fateful April 15, 1865
at approximately 10:20 p.m
one hundred plus sixty years; it's been
long since deceased taking deadly
gunshot punctuated deadly din,
whence sixteen plus decades passed sans
conspirator tried to get even
at Ford’s theater – forever
eviscerating thin lipped grin
of the sixteenth president - still
his unrealized promising dreams with in
Reconstruction paradigm presses
historians to speculate what
what kinship his unrealized
post-bellum blueprint
while he sat in his booth,
attended a performance of the comedy
Our American Cousin that night
when a bullet entered below
the president's left ear,
bored diagonally through his brain
and stopped behind his right …
wrought him slumped over,
now tis 7 score + 20 years witnessed
assassination of Abraham Lincoln
team of rivals mastermind, re: the
American Civil War wreck con struck shin
yet…his positive affects find him
honored with outsize depictions and a con tin
hue wing legacy sustained, whereby
hearts and minds he posthumously did win.

Said enigmatic man shrouded and idolized
with beatific, democratic essence
fantastic, honorific, pacific aura, dogma,
and persona with meager off fence
to generations of United States citizens –
enthralled ladies and gents
whose reverberations and ramifications
of humane karma lives on – hence
begotten progeny enjoying freedoms
perchance ensconced with rapt innocence
or those inured with sensibility and sense
can bequeath pride without prejudice
whether living in splendour or in tents
toward Illinois railroad log splitter,
whose humble roots forged steely covenants.
with a scheming, loving, and enticing guise
alive and well seeking gullible guys
(once upon a time just like me),
who experiences close encounters
of masterly baited entrapment
on Facebook Messenger
and most likely endemic
on other social media platforms.

My humblest bumblebee apology
if nothing but utter milky confusion
ensues from legions of double entendres,
and puns lobbed across your screen
in a harmless attempt
to parry and ****** with playfulness,
but take a deep breath
cause by the end of this posting
(girl scout's honor) you will wheeze
after weathering tumultuous introduction
to poetic missive of mine
merely meant to tickle those axons
populating the nose
about to make the nostril(s),
and neurons as a tease
sne, snee...sneez...achoo...sneeze
analogous to a feather
sorry if you get an allergic reaction
and experience more'n knocked knees.

No easy way to offer you an abridged version
(and brook those undercurrents of riptides)
that wrought havoc and delivered
nothing but hard times to this writer and kin
the latter (two grown daughters)
long since launched successful lives.

I constantly felt rent asunder
and whipped (though
miraculously survived) this way and that
(by abysmal fate)
in what most likely
appeared to be beyond the ability
to function, yet someone
(by the slick grace of some divine force,
and faith no more in inherent strength)
wordsmith performed requisite duties
as house husband and father
never experienced deliverance
(cue dueling banjos)
after dehydration videlicet salivation
from accursed ***** deeds done dirt cheap
to be adumbrated within
subsequent sketchy
following lines of gibberish
possibly triggering favorable rapport
with thee dear reader to evolve.

How impasse and quagmire
of cumulative emotional, financial,
and spiritual tsuris
bogged me down courtesy
the swamp thing
(near to the point of emotional, mental
and physical suffocation)
would necessitate an acquaintanceship
to be established analogous
to purchase computer
components at best buy
which assemblage
of functioning moon units game plan
for this moderately agitated guy,
(which psychic state exemplified
via frenetic and jangling prose)
and impossible mission
to attempt a summarization
of once dire dilemma
back some years from the here and now.

So many issues assaulted
and beat down upon this ordinary specie
of **** Sapiens severely
undermined capability to enjoy existence.

Okay, I will try to isolate each strand
of one mishmash tapestry,
which tight weave of duress
worn like some tattered
uncomfortable trojan made
ribbed miniature overcoat.

Unsure if ye might perceive
yours truly (the writer of these words)
as did the missus consider me a "good" catch
perhaps the reply might be to go fish or fetch
p'raps calling me nuttin - just an ole letch
butta hope not to make a ya retch
this unknown older laddie
nada a suite executive by any stretch
more so a bumbling wretch.

This dollop of gobbledygook me level best
to offer a virtual brightened
and enameled then
(at time of crafting these words
gap toothed smile revealed remaining
few teeth - think
jack o lantern, now yours truly
sports full set of dentures)
after periodontal disease bacteria did infest
and whittled away jaw bones,
thus neither false pearly whites
nor misshapen physique representative
hardly the imprimatur
of a gentleman quarterly
magazine model beau geste
as you can deduce,
I like to write for fun and jest,
which some find to be a fossilized pest
and in my mind I let flit
fantasies for some ****** quest
followed by a blissful rest
once confirming my tool
passes the electric kool acid battery test,
thence prayerfully hope to regale
in such physical closeness
with zeal and zest.

We could (in our respective wet dreams)
possibly find ourselves
walking down that wedding aisle,
no matter we rank
as utter and complete strangers
and ye may misperceive me
as some old decrepit human crocodile
making a proposition to pledge our troth
when we never met
yet...the fickle finger of fate works
in a most awesome and unpredictable ways,
but please no need to feel obliged
to give a number for me to dial
unless...comfort and ease arises
to go that extra green day mile
per responding to this older mwm
with a poetic and prosaic penchant
swiftly taylored and harried styled.

So...if offered salvation of eternal life
against condemnation imposed since birth
per mortality vis a vis unfair fate so cruel
this plain speaking male suffered prepubescent
emotion null budding nipped,
and fully flowered anorexic loosestrife
would be game to allow, enable, and provide
the grim reaper
to take monopoly of mein kampf
and to take a chance well worth
and take at least one sip
from fountain of youth and duel
with divine creator a greater match
than my darling wife,
who did not deserve just desserts
administered, doled, heaved out to her
as undeserved mistreatment.

No emerald, ruby sapphire nor flash in the pan
could ever sway me away from living a short span
that would allow and offer at least a millennium
I know such a garden of eden
solely in thy imagination of this ordinary man.

I, (an articulative, contemplative,
non manipulative and speculative
married celibate, friendly,
circumspective, introspective, respective
barbarian Neanderthal, disestablishmentarian,
latitudinarian, proletarian, sexagenarian,
solitudinarian, utilitarian,
and Unitarian married male)
try to make crystal clear
my unswerving, and unvarying pursuit
for life, liberty and a platonic relationship
with acceptable, affable, amiable, available,
bankable, cherishable, compassionable, creditable
demonstrable, endurable, enjoyable, equitable
fashionable, favorable, formidable, honourable,
impregnable, indomitable, ineradicable, inimitable
for starters general type of women agreeable to me.

I hate to entertain lofty delusions
or illusions of glandular grandeur
but one night stands never appealed
to this above average, boyish looking individual,
even when I lived far from the madding crowd
as a Norwegian bachelor farmer in Lake Woebegone.

Living social in pseudo wedded bliss,
those tempestuous altercations I do not miss.
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