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This Love
part II

This love is outrageous,
            I rage.
Without patience,
        I rip open (my cage)
my ribcage,
    and whistling,
tear my heart to pieces.
          It’s ripe,--
on each piece,
    her initials are inscribed.
And senseless,
        my eyes wander
endlessly
  from N to T.
Submerged in thought, 
        destiny 
pensively,
    traces the road
from New York to Toronto 
        with a pencil.

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