the wind's impact on the telephone wires.
I cut the baguette.
Never argue. You know what you need to work on.
You think about it all the time.
Even the plainness of the floor reminds you.
I lift you by the ankles, roll you back
on your futon saying, "If you will have me."
To give you only a curtsy would
--actually a curtsy is fine. Is enough.
I convey this with a nod.
And a volley of fireworks erupts
in my mental pants.
If only you knew.
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