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At 14 he told the same joke

Again, and again needing you

To laugh,

At sixteen she pleaded for you to love her

The way they love in books

Dedicated, like a Norwegian’s

Love for his lutefisk,

I wish I had learned to savor the goodness

To look the recurring nightmare in the eye

The good the wine has taught me Wins;

Lips visibly stained like a prostitute

The fourth glass was never the same as the first

Like a joke told one too many times