The Folded Jet
You start with a paper so crisp and white,
You redo the first fold until it’s just right.
You continue to fold it whichever way,
If only the folds would decide to stay.
You crease it and crease it until at last,
The plane zooms past the Mazda, which travels fast.
But no sooner than it left your hand,
It found its way into the plastic trash can
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