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Shakespeare's Monkeys
Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.
More in Poetry
after Baldwinsville
there along the roadthe old familiar paincaved me in.
I was ready to quit that travelingthat road that everything,
but your voicepulled me uprightstood me up put me back together.
"we're stopping early,"you announced.
that night,along Lake Oneida,your perfect handscoaxed me from despair to desire.
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There are no monkeys here. If you're looking for monkeys, go away. Well, actually there are monkeys, but they're of the hairless variety that writes poetry and such. If that's not what you're looking for move along.