The Cookie Crumbles, The Fly Buzzes

Magic in your hair and hat beguiles,
and there’s jest in that lopsided grin.

All the while you don’t look too hard
at me as I suck down tonic, gin.

Maybe your card was painted all different
colors, but mine got black and white.

This explains my diffidence, my ghostly pallor,
 and your passion for fight, self-reliance, and power.

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