in maine thinking of maine rather and an itchy cottage blanket in your cabin that slants that you call home and i call home for a weekend where it is cold and june listening to jeff buckley writing down the lyrics so that you will understand me somehow on a little piece of brown paper left in a drawer for you to find after my bus has headed back and i am going home and you are already home as i want to be and thinking now maybe between durgs and egg sandwiches there was love again but the blanket we used may have smoothered it out of us which reminds me how kind you were to me once or twice and now

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