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 Conversation by Elizabeth Bishop 
						The tumult in the heart keeps asking questions.
 And then it stops and undertakes to answer
 in the same tone of voice.
 No one could tell the difference.
 
 Uninnocent, these conversations start,
 and then engage the senses,
 only half-meaning to.
 And then there is no choice,
 and then there is no sense;
 
 until a name
 and all its connotation are the same.
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