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64

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[[strikethough]] Sunday, March 4, 1928  Tuesday [[/strikethrough]]

Monday, April 21

Wet Paint on Your Sleeve

You shouldn't have leaned against the paint
You should not have taken note
You should have learned long ago to feignt
Indifference to smudges on your coat 
Truly you should never have given me leave
To get something to wipe it clean —
Because I loved you most when from your sleeve
I rubbed [[strikethrough]] the paint [[/strikethrough]] away what paint had been —
there's intimacy in benzine ——!



65

Monday, March 5, 1928

Pride

Weakly I stay here, completely tied
To this prosaic, deaden life by pride
[[strikethrough]] And [[/strikethrough]] In work, [[/strikethrough]] lay [[/strikethrough]] desire to do something real before I die.
And yet these bonds seem futile things
When compared to what life brings
to those who leave such ruts as these in which I
Have fallen.  Yet I cannot do
What I should like ... Go with you
And run through rain and laugh into the sky
I'm too absorbed in time, [[strikethrough]] and [[/strikethrough]] routine
To leave this life as [[?souethy]] that has been 
And all the comment and opinions of [[?thou]] would defy!

[[strikethrough]]
was [[?sure]] I didn't miss you
And I went through the day's routine -
Glancing same [[?thys]] through the tissue
Of what the mist and rain had been,
At precious dandelions in the grass,
And on the blades enormous dreg balls of dew.
But I was wrong.  I'm ''?]] across -
There's nayght left to look forward to.
[[/strikethrough]]