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November Rhymes

I

The day was as brisk as Lipton Tea
The temperature dropping like flies
The police were out hunting the short arms of crooks
While birds churned the buttermilk skies

A fisherman clicked as he cast a net
Anemones sang Bach Chorales
Then One of Those Things You Would Never Forget
Came swimming by fits and by spells


II

I had just returned early
From having been late
With a box full of smoking cigars
So I piled a plate curly
With half-tempted Fate
And blew smoke
At the dawn-riddled stars

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Cydonia photo: ESA

This is the journal of David Ross
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