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- Non-Erotic Poetry
- I am not my fathers Oldsmobile
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Still the cower of want explodes me
With the most insipid frivolities
What is she wearing, tasting
My mother, the car, spoke
To some Van Dyke
She would leave on the nearest
Jet plane, get away with all
Hats and grins
To LAX, DTW
All around to SUE
And a warm welcome blanket
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