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Dad picks up his copy
Of Sylvia Plath
And the check
As he lights his Gitane

He is morbidly drawn
To the girl in the corner
He's aware
That she plays violin

"Outside of a dog
A book is my friend"
Inside of two months
They're living in sin

Dad compliments Plath
On her lovely talent
He thinks to himself
"Where's the gin"

She's beautiful pregnant
Though given to moods
I arrive
Let the games begin