8:45 AM
I wrote a poem for Macy. I put it in her little cubby inbox.
Do you know how late you are?
You live around the corner--not far.
Did you hurry? Did you run?
Faster than a bullet from a gun?
I don't think you did--you're not out of breath
Listen up, ducky--next time, the penalty is death.
15 years ago
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