confidential
tip as a trick foam
offers crate
to the give me
the willies
roped out of
practice: a ram sentence grifts
low sounds
of rain against AC units
blasting
wink logs to a slushy nite in
Georgia,
which amplifies a rapt republic
necessitating
that all macaroons
glow in the
dark whisper agents
you can
remember that meeting, can’t you?
some of us
kinda stand out more vivid
than sharp
candy tones on yr plastic
models bachelorette’s an
usherette
with the fall of a house of
slack
riddance neverminded acrophobe
ragtie slip,
over that gorge where
dams once
plied their
heavily
tirade—
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