Page 50
By Jack Joseph Smith
Leaving
If ever you mst go
When the strain has that tug
The [J A split in the heart
To be killed and killing on your way
Like lousy language crumbling with all that you believe
A thumb to the eye adjusting to the romantic
Simple as a bus ticket and complicated as a bus station
Or to be evidently and catch a ride and get aquainted
sé
And of course it is not sucide and someone elee's grief
. That let's the truth into,
right PEROT, come back
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