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The bread blushes into a golden brown, lettuce whispering to itself in the bowl and Frisbees of cucumber at the bottom. Later, men will grumble satisfactory masculinities (bertha bertha you’ve done it again) while dishes in women’s hands laugh their way to the sink and the yellow light inside keeps out the pitch black universe beyond the light splashed windows.
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Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC
dinner poem
The bread blushes into a golden brown, lettuce whispering to itself in the bowl and Frisbees of cucumber at the bottom. Later, men will grumble satisfactory masculinities (bertha bertha you’ve done it again) while dishes in women’s hands laugh their way to the sink and the yellow light inside keeps out the pitch black universe beyond the light splashed windows.
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Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC
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