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erotic poem

beneath my window in a city street
a mile behind
in your arms was still delight
let us pity those who are better off than we are
one by one, like leaves from a tree
in their ragged regimentals
simplicity
long ago, in the young moonlight
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise

 



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