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Janus

Janus

 

When we were young

we raged against the storm

biting at our hormones,

engulfing our senses

and our sensibilities.

 

The deep penetrating

oxblood on our

Doctor Martin boots

polished

to an indignant sheen.

 

Pre-conditioner hair,

split ends and acne,

Shredded Wheat moustache.

A groove worn on the chin

by pondering fingers.

 

Myopic ...

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