I woke up in Portland,
With the taste of you still
Fresh on my lip.
Like hot syrup on a waffle.
The cool wind catches my hair, and tosses it into the blue of my eyes,
And into the pink of your mouth.
What I've always wanted
A site for poetry and other stuff
Not a dealer - downsizing and have some spare antiques
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"Nothing Exceeds Like Superfluous Jejunity "