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How much of this
Great Matter,
Feeling universal
In import,
Was simply
Chemical patina
Over ordinary objects
In motion?

You swear
That of all
The liars you know,
You’d be
The least deceitful,
The most
Self-honest.

But the rush
Was too much
Though.
The need too great,
Yes?

You saw the woman,
You swear,
But damned
If she was too
Luminous,
Too ideal
To be real.

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