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everyone needs a stalker
hours before sunset
the nearly-full moon rose over route 80
like a pocked god of impending doom
stalking the last whisps of day
with a friendly lipless,'O, my.'
i careened away, afraid to look in my mirror
for fear of him, and what he might say
knowing
her dark brown eyes
in the soft frame of mahogany hair
my bounds, curve by curve
around her hips and the pokonos
for want of thirty years of sparkling
and a moment of raunchy lust
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