It didn�t matter
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that I didn�t get stalked back,
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as I was on a one way street
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traveling into a vena cava
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over and over
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marching into a dirt farm
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on the sidewalk
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that words I imagined mouthed
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deeply, coarsely never blew
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into my neck or my eyebrow
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the I know, I know
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never written, faxed,
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IM�d, scribbled on my dirty car
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that I was the boy
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in the bubble using sign
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language, fore-finger-thumbing
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the �L�, the curved fist of �E�
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the single finger �T�
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and continuing
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�LET ME OUT�
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it did not matter-
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my non-reciprocated love
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