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THE HISTORY OF MY LIFE
Once upon a time there were two brothers.
Then there was only one: myself.
 
I grew up very fast, before learning to drive,
even. There was I: a stinking adult.
 
I thought of developing interests
someone might take an interest in. No soap.
 
I became very weepy for what had seemed
like the pleasant early years. As I aged
 
increasingly, I also grew more charitable
with regard to my thoughts and ideas,
 
thinking them at least as good as the next man’s.
Then a great devouring cloud
 
came and loitered on the horizon, drinking
it up, for what seemed like months or years.