Monday, September 14, 2015


I have forgotten your name
But remember you were in love
With someone named Gus.
(Gus did not seem very lovable to me
But I suppose it is a matter of taste.)
You'd written a poem to him
Praising his moustache gingembre.
Memory has decreed that from you
I keep only your voice's echo
But must always recollect
That damned ginger mustache.

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