November 4, 2008 at 6:19 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 8 Comments
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stooped but not stupid, sir,
there seems to be some problem with
bumping into each other below decks
in narrow hallways during stormy weather

A tall thin elegant gentleman with a cane
and the vague scent of vanilla and I
my love, in pursuit of your objective,

and now it has come into my
engraved upon my coarse skin
a mapped device for unlocking some
strange sin within.

Everything is under control,

Good he says turning back into the room,
now where is she,

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