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Click hereI was the meat
Rothko and Rosenvasser were the bread
I sauced, creamy dressing
mustard-honey vinaigrette on lunch-meats
they were lightly toasted
and soggy in the middle
Rothko and Rosenvasser
hate each other
each spits when he
hears the name of the other
is better than your poem--why?
cause it's clear and two the point
and we all love tits