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- Non-Erotic Poetry
- it must be august in 1962
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I feel like a kid again
near the chlorinated pool
you see me scratching a bug bite
I see you too, playing with the oil bottle
your mom says I should come over
I do and we shake hands
thirty years later
I still beg you to make me sneeze
remember you gave me the first hickey
it made me stiff for 3 days
pretending my leg was hurt
limping, not to attract attention
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