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Okay MAG
And he looked at me with such shame
No, with such stupidity
No, with such normality
As if I had said
I was a waiter or a painter
Or a doctor or a clockmaker
Or a student or an athlete
Or a dancer or a loser
Or a lover or a cheater
No, I said I was a writer
I let the world know I was ready
To succumb to my torturous destiny
And the lame soul said: okay …
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I wrote this poem when I was angry at a friend of mine who didn’t believe poetry was really “a thing”