Cold-slaw
Collective opacity
Expectation of those who will come
no more
Felt that this was my misfortune
more than my fault
Found life was not all poetry
He had no time to make money
Intellectual poseurs
No time to make money
NYC, a city where money counts for
more and goes for less
One could be openly poor in Cambridge
without open shame
Put your finger on the present moment
and enjoy it
Standards were their own, and they
were satisfied with them
Wonderful to me how it should remain
so unintelligible
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