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Can I
Borrow A Stamp?
By: Alex Anderson
Dear Sloth,
When I was young, they said I was smart.
Like a whip.
They said that I could be whatever I pleased.
Like a magic word.
I could climb up the mountains or swim in the seas.
Like an alphabet.
With a little work here or an effort over there.
Like a homonym.
And while down with all that's redeeming and fun,
I owe to you all I could have done.
Suppose I could have been a doctor.
Like an M.D.
Suppose I could have been a professor.
Like a P.H.D.
Suppose I could have been a lawyer.
Like a J.D.
Suppose I could have been a desk clerk anywhere.
Like the D.M.V.
And as go the ups and downs of the game,
I owe to you what I never became.
So I never cured a deadly disease.
Like pneumonia.
So I never did get published in a magazine.
Like Harpers.
So I never proved innocent a guilty man.
Like Cochran.
So I never made anyone wait to pay me.
For a sticker.
And so while in melancholic indolence I rot,
I owe to you everything for not.
I am not angry or even annoyed.
Like by a child.
I am not sad or overly morose.
Like a Goth.
I am in fact both happy and gay.
Like two men.
For if I were not possessed of such glee,
I would owe to you an apology.
For if not for your scam,
I’d have learned how pathetic I really am.
Like a failure.
Signed sincerely,
Your victim and converted apostle,
Alex Anderson
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