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Summer Prelude

My god - my wastes -

gone to grimace

that ought to have gone

to seed and come

some harvest -

When the ballgame

called I followed

crowd-length -

And you! with your

sturdy legs and red,

a kiss would do -

a kiss - just

as well as some

slick between us

and a cigarette

resigned to rather

than smoked

as by the antiquarian

outside his shop

at noon -
Posted 06/05/10
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