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I'm Your Man
by Peter Humphreys
listening to Cohen
on my old record player
I remember our first argument
about tea and oranges
in an old Victorian shelter
peeling green
and rusty red
next Perch Rock
It wasn't
that I found Cohen
a bad poet
in my arrogant youth
I sensed a rival
needing destruction
under a cold blue sky
resonant with screeching gulls
as we walked
hand in hand
prize won
unbeknownst to her
I could hear
Leonard reprimanding me
for using his poetry
for such base means
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