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Lonely Larry, poem by Frank Reardon

LONELY LARRY Every­day Lar­ry walks into the lum­ber yard with his head down due to years of bad pos­ture. His hair, fake or not, looks like a blond toupee, and he twid­dles his fin­gers in mad cir­cles when he speaks. Mona, … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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