It's in one of the sillier parts of the city that he chooses to pour his heart out to her. She tells him how connivingly apt it is of him to do that then. And there.
Addicted to no known solution, he is nevertheless grateful when in the presence of the conventionally mired, with their tangible hint of less wrong.
No influence unknown to him, but none then he is under. (Full heart. Empty head.)
She gets up and walks away from him (her walk a guilty thought - her way of reminding him that love poems must rhyme).
- Paul Haines, "Unrecommended Lures" (from Secret Carnival Workers)
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