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by squidwork

Posted to Action Poetry on 2004-03-06 09:19:00




forcing two fingers down
the hole to fish out
the dinner of my pet

then comes the sound
of the ice cream cart
across the street

i stood up and
bumped my head
on the windowsill

while the band
wished me to be
there (and, yeah,
i wish so, too)

but mere but weak
but hear so here’s
your piece of
dinnerfood.

it’s not been
five mins.
on my mouth