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Wk kortas Jan 2017
Don’t give me some dark, inscrutable muse
With faux chaste coyness and misleading smiles;
Give me a memory that I can use
To carry me through the endless gray miles
Of venal ensigns on a windswept deck,
Days sighed away under monochrome skies.
I’ll recall a broad (and she’ll let you check)
With the fleet’s emblem tattooed on both thighs,
A bawd who can take a beer and a shot,
Who’ll let you wear the dress, if you prefer.
She’ll let you have even if you have not;
God bless those sailors who sail in her.
Who needs some girl who’s all cashmere and class?
Give me the **** you can grab by the ***.
With deepest apologies to Thomas Pynchon

— The End —