An
answer to a question never raised:
we
the
men
the
sailors
the
Portuguese
we
the readers of your dermal lacework
the
ready pinschers, the sad Oh liars
deny
the sins
dip
petals
sugared
they
in
between
rubbed
sandy creeks
tangerine
dreams
placebo
hands hiding in your underwear
speechless
tenderizing penetrations
showered
glitters
oh
shy vain
sugared
we
JC,
2014
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