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Friday Poem

Twelve Hours Out of New York after Twenty Days at Sea The sun always setting behind us. I did not mean to come this far. —baseball games on the radio Commercials that turn your hair— The last time I sailed this coast Was nineteen forty-eight Washing galley dishes Reading Gide….

—baseball games on the radio Commercials that turn your hair— The last time I sailed this coast Was nineteen forty-eight Washing galley dishes Reading Gide….

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