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Smiling as her head raises up
I return the grin, this time, like each one before
Maybe I could be wrong
Misunderstood
Then again, it wouldn't be the first time I was confused
Not the first time I felt this odd old comfort
She looks into my eyes as she hands me the rolled up dollar
I want to tell her, I will
My apprehension begs to differ
But will it matter for anything more than disappointment
and another poem