Two Sticks On The Street
The way I look to you
Is the way we see each
One and the other like a
Bowl of peas, you and me.
Then there is your funny smile
The show of bleached teeth and
The cackling of your coarse voice
Like a tickled horse, but worse.
I do not know how it
Happened so. Like a shot of
Vodka. Or when cubes fall in
Place. Adjusted, the way they should.
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