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A typical poem of the Living Adverbially theme:
Living Ambidextrously
Two for the price of one doesn't qualify,
nor do two birds in the bush;
what does count is when the left hand
knows exactly what the right is doing.
Inside the mind the motor synapses
defer to neither side,
and center field gets all the home runs.
When you can't decide which hand to use,
always choose the right one,
so if it fails, you can use the one that's left.
Maybe in the middle the mixture stays so murky
that left or right doesn't matter any more.
Despite our attempts at political duplicity,
where THEY tell both sides they're right,
equality of sides for hand-made capabilities
becomes, that one rare time when
you really can have it both ways,
but only if you don't think about it.
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