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- Erotic Poetry
- Hunting Ghosts
Poem Info
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You painted me with your hands
on a lunch picnic hypoxic blue
and waited for me in the dark
like the anomalous activity
those folks on TV stump for
night after night in all the data
a change in temperature tells you
when you're sick or ovulating
but when you're pissed—
I can usually catch it right on camera
