For love of the hairless Egyptian cat—who’d believe this?—
He sniffs the difference between the skin above
Your tan line and the skin below your tan line
And
can I feel them to find out? You always never had
A
tan line I know but the subtlest blushes of your body
Are
so stunningly obedient to silly exceptionally pushy ideas
Hoary
matadors and we know either way the bull
Loses
his head in the end he falls face down tongue-tied
And
thirsty on that dirt his own blood his last drink
He
accepts the death of his bright turgid little
Magnolia—are
you still listening, cutie? All the dopes
Dropped
interest years ago as soon as I began
Singing
this song but you see there comes a moment of
There
comes a pause when no distances appear
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