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In my younger days, I was much more careless about things
and looked out of windows far less than I do now.
In those days I would fall into the street with an easy grace—
not thinking so much as to where I was going,
but just eager to wander around America,
full of a wild, childlike arrogance,
ready for anything at all.

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Speaking of Poetry

  • A poem by Dean Goldberg

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