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he wants to be John and June
Klondike 1932 they came running like like
rotten fruit drip from the mouth
was sex politics back then in the etherised
shamericas of youth I mean it though
that shameless familiarity with skirts
the certainty the utter clockwise
i hurt myself today to see
here nothing here nothing here whirling girls
she was on the streets at 7 years old wauling
les ombres de la rue
little slut you should have guillotined her mother way before
as if table upon said in more
now look again upon the clock
facial tictactoe facial cumshot
all of us dripping in our even bukkake
no one laughs in this custard pie event
even the clock/cock shuts
(wrong twice a day imagine there in the carking shrubbery a strange face peered out its yellow vibe through long, long leaves)
air in the bells. lake-voices at ring in the noonfish church
.
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