I learn 'the Ropes,' I learn to dance; gifts from me you need-not. . .

 I learn 'the Ropes,' I learn to dance; gifts from me you need-not, do offend, and my best then would seem to obtain in yes watching I say in-repeat, and then as-if-in-a-situation you all of you need a Quixote to say a poem in a vaunt of prose. I have learned that Quixotes never get lady-fair, as she does not need a dangler to get so-crucified.

Little signs that 'you have had enough of me' are skimpy; the Police, however, will violate me for violation of your persona; these Cops are usually as suckers (like I am too) for a chivalry that was in genesis a mere bully-violence, and now as I no longer want more police-beatings, I shall merely sit at the side of your tango girl2girl as in the womansroom when you chat-- in a way that men in mensroom never do-- about love and relations all punctuated by excretions and hand-washing.

Now is the day after Yesterday; my lessons are getting inside me slowly, I am a fool and quixotic and so learn this tangodance slowly. I joy overjoy when you hello me; I can and should expect no better fitting-in.

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