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CRIMINAL WINDS

Just me and
The criminal winds.
Sweeping barricades
In crepuscular peace.
Mingling with
The night sky,
Like a million
Tin bars
Falling into the
Stars
Which lie
Overhead.
On the frozen,
Corrugated
Iron roof.

Just me and
The criminal winds.
Sipping the
Syrup of moonlight.
Licking, kissing,
Making peace.
Bulges and more
Coming out of
The essence
That delineates the
Perennial effulgence,
Shining on the shores
As I shriek
In the bay of
Packaged pines.
Moon-
Buttercup,
Running down,
Sleeping inside,
On the
Comfy couch.

Drinking,
Raising a toast.
A pint of ale.
Getting drunk.
Hooking up
With the
Criminal winds.



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