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Friday, November 05, 2004

 

poem # 2

The Language of my Soul


Dear sweet Lenny Kravits.
I remember well those long nights
alone in my room
wondering,
what must it be like to touch a girl?
are they sticky?
their nectar peeking from behind tiny pores.
waiting to be tasted by my long probiscus
well. my probiscus anyway.

Now, my life in clear focus
questions answered:
girls are sticky.
not like I thought.
and you with your long snaking hair
and your power.

“I'm crazy for that lady
She's chic but she's not shady yeah
Sophisticated lady
And she makes me feel good
She's so fine
Never knew there was such a lady
That would make me want to straighten
Out my life at this time but I find
I'm thinkin' 'bout this pretty lady
I would love for her to have my baby'Cause you know she's no fool
She's refined”

Thank you Lenny Kravits,
So many years and you,
you still speaking
the language of my soul.


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