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Like an Old Shoe

August 5, 2010

You stand there, open-mouthed,
Ogling me with your eight eyes,
Tongue hanging out, undone.
What are you staring at
Waiting for me to walk all over you?
You’ve watched my undressing
Every morning you’ve been here.
So stop gaping with such ardor,
I’ve got a green crate of others like you
Just across the room.

(me, circa 1997)

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