dear mrs chubby jane,
sugar-wrapped
in cane root
under canopy of
mercedes branches
gnarled pussy bark,
blood
of trucksperm...
my heart beats in
turns,
tricky petals forever
glancing off the
pool,
nothing hanging
between the computer's legs
but fruit-piss skinning off
the bough.
From faded
capes
nailed to
spurting
neon glass,
rice brains
and bamboo cloaks,
the man with half
his face
painted
red
says i love you
also.
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