All good –

We met fifteen years ago
Deep inside, she was hammer and sickle
Deep inside, I was Scot’s grandmother’s ‘eazy-oazy’
She said, read something else, something other than the New York Post
Said I would, and I nearly did
‘War and Peace’ on my lap, indenting my knees, I spilt coffee on it, so missed the beginning, couldn’t progress, wouldn’t understand it
She poured some French spirituality over me, she loved Therese of Lisieux
Didn’t know she cared that much, she feared for my soul, always and forever
I feared for the Mets just as much

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