no ketchup
no ketchup
he ate lunch
like a bachelor
leaning over the kitchen sink
two micro-waved hot dogs
loaded with mustard and relish
~ welker ~
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she wrote poetry like jazz
brautigan's riddle
good friday
christine's lament
when the night comes down
life is like a crossword puzzle
my childhood moved so slow and beautiful
antique
christmas eve
she doesn't know i'm writing this poem
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