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Bagel
Yesterday, you said you worried
 about my lack of self-sufficiency
 When I can’t find the scissors, 
 I ask you for help, but 
 you shoo me away and say, 
 “I won’t be there for you in two years.
 Your college roommates won’t
 find the scissors like I do.”
 
 Today, you said you worried
 about my dangerous habits:
 I cut my bagels with butter knives,
 not with the serrated ones near the stove,
 I walk with pencils point-up and 
 “Any minute you could fall and that thing
 would stab your eye out.”
 But your worry is love.

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