this slipper, this. a granite block
of a foot comes
forage through your notions
like hunger was a motive
for thinking.
the streets are lined
more carts steam there
licked by the sun.
i'm no portal for quick slaps
i'm no kin of regular projects
i'm no yore written pamphlet
you can kitten the most vicious land
sliding your back up and down
my fortnight for your jumping jack
my whippet for your ground jaw
a lack in statistics, a growl
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