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You're a miracle, Walker. Your fingers are. Your toes are. Your crushing sadness and guilt are
Ron Koertge
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OMG. He's a gift shop, a lamb kebab with mint,/a solar panel poetry machine with biceps. He's the path/through the dark woods, the light on the page, a postcard/from the castle and a one-way ticket there. He's the most/astounding arrangement of molecules ever!/Just look at those tights! An honest-to-God prince at last
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