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If springtime were a girl
she’d be the kind
fond of drawn-out suspense
in all her romances
Will they or Won’t they on and on
Listen, the rest of us would tell her—
You can only be giddy and gay for so long
Because now we are reduced
talking back to the screen the page
the window the weather
Shouting at the players—
Get on with it already
as we dig out mittens,
pull our boots back on.

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