imagine, if you will, that clement clarke moore had never written 'twas the night before christmas (which is actually up for debate anyway, but regardless...). perhaps someone else would have penned a nice little poem for us instead. like some of our high school favorites?
thank you frank gannon, for providing me with a few options.
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sleigh ride
by Charles Bukowski
even in winter
my ears bleed
i never wanted to see that broad again
but i did
i paid too much for too little
in return
i ask why
why so much for a sleigh ride
no jingle
no jangle
just cold air breezing through my clothes
i think about why i gave the bottle up
just for a night to be with her
and her damn little ride
then i remembered
the smell of that perfume
that laugh
that lipstick
it was all there
but the cold brought me back
back to where i was before she called
i just can't hear that jing-jing-jingling
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