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His tattoo doesn't mean what it used to

kiss a dozen foreheads
break a lonely heart
before you finish that novel
	you said you’d start

chase the running waters
float naked above the rocks
give a friendly wave
	show ‘em you haven’t washed apart

count the weather
collect seasons of words on page
bound, blind and raged in your leather cage
	write them aloud to read them silent 


wash a riddle
wash another riddle down with medicine 

talk endlessly with friends
'liven down the street

paint them a dozen faces
to show off you have an open heart

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