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tonite
(this brownarmed girl will sleep
with goodman)
testing the white waters at lunch
she in a blushless
cheesecloth frock
chaperoned by one vased fuchsia forget
me not
coyly sipping cantharis tea
verbalizing
circling a triangle
words slipping from breath moistened lips
like fire thirsty moths quenched by flame
washing their hands
clean of angelcake memories
she keeps a picture by his bed
a stranger and the children
in sun day best
& each night is the longest month of the year
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