I was writing a post and was going to make a joke about Max Ehrmann's Desiderata, which was popular back when I was in college. I had this very edition on my bookshelf* in the '70s. But, I went back and read the poem, and I don't want to make fun of it. It's part of who I was and that makes it part of who I am.
I do promise not to link to any Rod McKuen poems.
*The "bookshelf" was a couple pieces of wood, supported and separated by huge beer cans. Does this sound familiar to anyone else? If so, you'll probably remember Deteriorata, a different take on the poem. You are a fluke of the universe ...
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