It takes excruciating toothache
to convince me to brush twice
a day, ten St. Patty’s Days since
you dialed me on land-line to say
You’d had a nice time. I was just
leaving for the show but I must
say: that two mile stroll to the el
was lighted, a lantern fallen down a well.
Jangling change in my pockets I
savored your few words, and why I’d
lit up like the barrels of a firing line.
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