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You might not want to click the hat.

Sam's hat

blocked

sometimes

when my fingers won’t move briskly
I’m in the mood but lacking whisky

the summer night is super sticky
too fast to stop, too slow for quickie

the fan blows soft at the back of my head
something I love — sweet and strong — has fled

and through the blind, and bugged pane, a tiny light
tells me nothing’s right

this is how I free up time
to make a silly, frozen rhyme

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