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“Why is it,” he said, one time, at the subway entrance, “I feel I’ve known you so many years?”
“Because I like you,” she said, “and I don’t want anything from you.

-Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

I never thought
to taste the rain
or rub the yellow
off the dandelions
under my chin
or see the world
in a single blade
of leaves of grass.