If I don't tell you what I'm doing,
I have my doubts you would ever find out.
Am I your mystery worth pursuing
or just some rhyme for twenty-nine?

If I could climb upon the framework
 you build around you, as if it were your soul,
 and looked inside, what would I find?
Some somethingness or only twenty-nine?

There are times I see the present
 but so rarely am I there, then barely.
 Maybe I'll open that wine you sent:
 a fine wine, not some cheap twenty-nine.

God help me if there were a God
looking down to assess this terrible mess --
He would dispatch his thunder as his sign
how displeased he is with twenty-nine.
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