252

More mere crooks were on the stage, dear.

Will you come back inside?
Let's make a trip home next year
where my conscience lake is near:

Say what? You ain't coming?
Why not? Because I'm losing
weight? That don't mean I'm not hungry,
it just means that I love you:

With sand in the elevator and a cheshire grin,
she dashed inside the other portal;
of vacations and patience and gin,
of stasis and grace less a fin:

Plangent plena fills the air of my shack;
How can I de-vein this attack?
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