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At 04:35 AM 11/16/97 -0500, you wrote:
> Happiness
>
> There's just no accounting for happiness,
> or the way it turns up like a prodigal
> who comes back to the dust at your feet
> having squandered a fortune far away.
Janet, the poem is nice, but it is too deep for 4 something AM. It is for
late afternoon after a glass of wine.
Peace, John