Darling, my heart
is a slow
fox flitting under
the tables
of repossessed mansions.
My heart
trots
with its handsome
companion
as our walls and floors are
mortgaged
nine
and ninety fathoms under
for the next thirty
years. My heart leaps
like five weasels
squirming
inside a three-piece suit
just before your
reverse
twin is
absorbed. My heart
hurts, leafling
with an ice cream
cone, cruising
for a dusting
of powdered sugar.
My hart is slain
by lumpen huns;
my mind plots: a numb
dagger, glass,
to pick the lock
wherein in pieces
dictophone cylinders
repose with a tiny derringer.
absorbed. My heart
hurts, leafling
with an ice cream
cone, cruising
for a dusting
of powdered sugar.
My hart is slain
by lumpen huns;
my mind plots: a numb
dagger, glass,
to pick the lock
wherein in pieces
dictophone cylinders
repose with a tiny derringer.
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