a black shadow fell on the documentation
the lapping of her tongue
exactly where I am going
only slightly off key
its stiff rippled surface
12 inappropriate men
purchased with the stipend
deciding which shirt to wear
putting candy in their mouths
have some candy
I removed the wrapper
cluttered with empty bottles of Corona
their notorious welcome bark
"Won't you come back Bill Bailey?"
their faded buckram covers
torn from an old paperback book
all the old episodes
dark circles under
data transfer protocols lined up
The words on the screen were barely legible
were these words
the computer accepted my input
in the photograph
blinking at the camera
back to rows of beautiful bodies
gopher error messages
snow on the banks of the highway
if he didn't come
blocking his view of the sea
redolent of honey and cream
stuck in the sand between us
in the men's locker room
while all around me men undressed
"this is not a wienie roast"

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