Mistrust of Kubla Khan

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I had heard the whispered tales of Alberta's springtime weather.

From an ancient book, I took a clue: scaling the frozen mountaintops,

fjording the river Alph, finding the secret cave, I searched for the lost Xanadu.

After breaking my fast on honeydew and drinking the milk of paradise,

I rose to this sight: prisoner of the lost Xanadu,

because the rental car agency didn't provide me with a scraper.

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