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Poem: Could Have Been 

I sat by
the editor of
a magazine I used
to submit
to. To the man
beside him, he
whispered X
and Y about the belongings
I had with me on
the bus. His friend,
if he was
his friend, said,
“You never know.”
One of them
pulled that chord

to let them off into
the night, along
a dark stretch of

road, and
the night

“You never know.”
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