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May 2013
The cruise line veeres off-course
to a land of broken
lobes.

I swim in hairy juice,
peppered with blue sprinkles,
alone.

Later, I forgot to
buy eggs. Write a list next
time.

A trumpet player burps,
we laugh and blow our tears.
There is no moon tonight.
There is no moon tonight.
Michael DePasquale
Written by
Michael DePasquale  New York
(New York)   
669
 
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