If I’m lucky I will forget
Moved past the point of pretending
That I am doing this for work
Or maybe it once was
And I crossed that line
Like Hemmingway or Fitzgerald
Or Kerouac who at least had his romance
And a novel about Big Sur
There’s nothing mystical
About having to face tomorrow
More suffering,
And having to start all over again
Because if I’m lucky I will forget.
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