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I want to drink wilted
wine and think about it with my friends
when they come over and they’ve
all aged years and remember
better days when pretty boys
got the girls and pretty girls
got what they deserved and when what they
deserved was what they thought about.
I want to have friends who
wear nice shoes and
look at the sky and see
the different hours in shades of
light and to breathe air that
was air before shoes needed
to be nice and wine was just a
glimmer on grape skin.

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