early winter rose

a fuck-the-bastards mother's disconnected
a seconda donna petulates
a net chatte barks

these trip-mes
this wrong town

then a lunch rare walk
a sweet stun glance
eyes each other's gaol

her guardienne sensed the trapped
spun like a won't start motor
i walked

thank you
early winter rose

image: poem

2K3:6

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image: set Hear
image: set Hear




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