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How we think we abhor it:
crossing the street to
avoid meeting up with it,
pretending - if it knocks -
not to be home,
going out of our way to
disavow any knowledge,
preferring to go it alone.
Who, in their right mind,
would look for it,
ask for it? Who wouldn't do
their best to stay out of it?
And yet, who is it always we
bring to the table?
Who, besides misery,
provides better company?
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