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by Ronald Wallace
Sometimes I wish I drank coffee or smoked Marlboros, or maybe cigars—— yes, a hand-rolled Havana cigar in its thick, manly1 wrapping, and I'd be writing about war and old losses—— man things——and not where I am, in this pristine2 and sensitive vessel3, all fizzy water, reticence4, and care, all reduced fat and purified air, behind my deprived computer, where I can't manage even a decaf cap, a mild Tiparillo, a glass of great-taste-less-filling light beer. 点击收听单词发音
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