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| It's just by chance, who |
| you are, but given myself |
| I take care of this being. |
| Nobody else will remember |
| its hunger, cold, loneliness: |
| I will be reminded, and care. |
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| This face, like an old watch, |
| I carry wherever I go. |
| Grandmothers, grandfathers, you pictures, |
| you should forgive my regret: |
| my wanting another. I carry it |
| as you did. It belongs |
| somewhere, and I am taking it there. |
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| On corners I let the wind |
| have all the world, and I turn |
| as a ship accepts the waves |
| but is itself and has a voyage |
| built into it, stubbornly. |
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| The choice of being who you are |
| is offered us, or being nothing. |
| The mask of myself is an old gift |
| nobody else took. So I brought it here. |
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