netcurmudgeon (netcurmudgeon) wrote,
netcurmudgeon
netcurmudgeon

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Morning meander

You don't appreciate what that thin
scraggle of accumulated facial fur
means in the winter

Until it's six fifty-two
and you are walking, clean-shaved
to your office, chin jutting
out into the winter solstice air

and you think,
Damn that's cold.
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