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Okay. Here's a very short poem, really just a couplet. This inane work sprang from my subconscious at about four in the morning when I was working on something else. This persuaded me that it was time to call it quits for the night. I call it:
SHYNESS
Trees of molasses and stumps of Parnassus and groves of archaic malaise
Trumpets harass us and sweepers bypass us in droves of Passaic filets
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