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teenage love poem

gone are the three, those sisters rare
and so it goes
i had over-prepared the event
there was a strangeness on your lips
i go my way complacently
in september
a pen of steel
i do not pray for peace
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
it was a tall young oysterman
tripping up, falling down
that strange companion came on shuffling feet
god

 



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