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Your Magazines
You ate all my pickles
And I never gave you back those shoes
I threw away all your magazines
You always kept them for years
Stacked up against the walls
They started leaking
Into the bedroom
And the kitchen
Faces and faces
Of people we’d never see
Those movie stars and liars
The writers and artists today
I couldn't sleep
I couldn't eat.
Maybe we should have made a fort.
