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Poem Number 23263
She is wearing a ring of rose quartz, gold wire
coiled like a weapon of Helen of Troy.
She is telling a fortune, she is getting a sun tan,
as the sweaty oil drips from her like chocolate
and I am not fortunate and I am not hungry, and
I am not Paris and this is too rich.
And I have no ring and her message to me
has no rosey ending and coils round my soul
strangling, like the abduction of innocense.
Love this one. pen
Love this one. pdg
pen ... is that really you??? still lurkin' around these hallways ...??? Drm
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