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If I should ever kiss the most fair you,
Compressing most more than compressors do,
Factoring out to dock a product full—
A shining face bright-packaged with joy’s smile,
Awaiting handler of your hands, you will—
To truck up arms for sweet unending mile,
To? Oh, drivethe common way to Fun,
That is a place where nothing great is done,
An average town, where love’s but average, too.
No! Take the freeway up to high I Do!
Once there, past unsought heights of averagers,
Will we un-ship ourselves, possession take
Of love’s price-meeting messengers—us,
To praise, with read lips, profits in the make!

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