The Devil and I sat down for coffee,
he was well-dressed in a dark, pinstriped suit,
even he drank his coffee black, no cream.
Despite the fact we met at the counter,
eager to meet a new recruit, he asked,
virtually begging me to join him,
it meant nothing to me, the Devil, ha!
literally, he was but a fiction,
a character in a Russian novel,
name changed to Woland, but the same trickster,
despite his offer, I had to decline.
I whispered in the Devil's pointed ear, "I love your eggs."
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