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Click hereGeorgia
never sounded so good
as when it tripped out past
your lips
Red clay
never fashioned a form
as full as your breasts filled out
your t-shirt
Pine trees
never graced the sky
as your long legs blessed
your jeans
Georgia
I want lick your name
off your lips
Get stuck in your clay
from head to hips
Climb your trees from trunk
to tips
Show me your southern
hospitality
This poem was selected from Lit's archive of over 39,500 poems for inclusion in today's Archival Review.<br>
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Sorry for the typo. Eve , you caught it correctly. Anyone care to administer proper punishment?
may I be a picky bitch for just a moment?
Is the title a typo?
And should this be:
"I want (to) lick your name"
Other than that, good poem. :)