El Estupido

I ran into a friend from 30 years ago on the internet. I took his number. I went to call him, and he wasn’t on my phone. “Ah!” said I, I wrote it on a notebook on my desk and didn’t put it on my phone, I’ll copy it when I get home.”

Well, I can’t find the paper… The pen’s still here, where’s the paper? It couldn’t have gone anywhere.

I have this quality in my life, anything I look for, I can’t find. A piece of paper, an email, a passage in a book.

How am I going to get this number again? Dammit.

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