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The Washers' Song We rustproofed hundreds of washers, patiently wired on steel. I had to untwist every kink before my longed-for meal. They were as tangled as nightmare, barbed as the winter briar, but I was sure that the final pair hung, kissing, on one wire. But they were threaded separately. I finger them, gleaming and slim. Perhaps I should not ask her at the same time as him. |
