09/03/2014

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The whores shoe above the door
was lucky for him but not for her,
wet, limp, stocking home,
slanket snug, a bite of flake.

Bolly pink, to light the way,
roses red, candy, grasps the stay
held up for atom blasted dish,
cellophane, well sauced neck.

Their cells re-connect: with coloured fangs,
nice chicken, pings, as love songs
carry plates to knees,
Ikea rug, rice drops fly.

Unshooed haw frost spores the door.
Yays to the right, into her
life of Hartley's jam, headland spread,
diet days, two bars on.

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