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To the guy who tweeted, Stop calling crap that ain't poems poems
The Stinging Fly (IRE) Issue 36, Volume 2, Summer
2017
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… It didn’t even want to be a poem.
All it was was a topless jug
tied to the rudder of a sailboat
that could still make it to the other side
if the wind was good enough,
but only if one person steered
and the other just kept on bailing.
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