Fine Line Fresco
In the habit of removing my legs at night. I can’t not turn when you’ve built a cottage on my arm. Set up a garden in the front yard, SUVs and station wagons from a different epoch.
The children rush to the doors and slam them shut while you tend our gardens. And the basket we used to carry hair metal and hip-hop jingles makes loud scratching noises from the boombox where my…
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