a poem

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2002-06-28

Dear Diary,

For some reason my elbow feels like someone’s been beating on it with a stufflebeam. Why is this? Perhaps I somehow fell off another ladder without noticing? Anyway here is a poem that a friend of mine wrote in high school, many years ago:

Whose bong this is I do not know
His weed is in the stash-box though
He will not mind me stopping here
To smoke a bowl
And drink some beer.

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