All I really want is a girl
Who'll go the third beer
And still be interested in what
Harold said that one time in London
And how the leaves sound in Goshen in the fall
As she quietly acquiesces to the fourth, fifth, and sixth.
And then, when I'm aloof and melancholy,
She will ask the bartender how his doxen weathered through surgery
And quietly giggle as she pays half-attention
To the re-run showing on the precariously balanced
Old television in the upper right-hand corner of the bar.
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