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Dublin, 4-10-04 (Prose Poem) by myles
"wear the white trousers", My mother said. Which brought to mind My grandfather, long dead. He had worn grey plaid, How then could I wear white? He knew his own failures, While I hide from the light. Still I see the bright pants, Crisp and warm and clean. My mother tells me "wear them", And I know I will give in.

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