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John-

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I brush the cinders from your acid-washed
jeans; thick skin firms beneath my finger-
tips.

Tap.



You touch
the butt to the ashtray.
I like the way it crumbles, the way you don't give


a d***.
You chew my tongue like gum, sweet songs
chopped



and

rearranged
into cries of pulled teeth and cracked ribs.
Your arms bandage my side. You pull away
to extinguish the cigarette on your palm--















prove you're a man.
You tell me to touch
so I poke my finger through
palm lines

calluses


muscles tightening.
I’m dizzy from the coke and the ceiling fan,
and my finger’s too big.
You laugh and swig your beer, set the sweating glass
down on my favorite record.
I watch the condensation melt rings into the
deep, dark face of
Lady.


Lady wailing







Lady moaning













Lady loving.





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