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My First Atempt At A Happy Poem

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Burming in a deflowered feild
Choking on the black ashes of dafidils.
We ate grapes and papyas in the tundra of south Africa
And you drove me home on a goose feather bed
I'd never been happier, sleeping on your shoulder
Did i cry that witch was ink?
Spotting your body in purple rain.
Or was it just your smile further warming
The spot where your hand touched my face?
Into the clowds this tricycle bed whould carry us
Flying soft on its goose feather down high up
There we kiss good night
(and throw up?)





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