This Poem was Submitted By: Scott T Rabb On Date: 2002-06-05 13:17:10 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Lemon Drop Kid

if materials leave a glass dry alone at a table with lipstick on the bottom of the rind, cousin to the door displaced hat. At the pay phone nobody calls MESSAGE the wind is my aunt, along with leafy scarf ambients there to adore. Season rich in lemon orange pekoe gratuitious thumb. I stalk the blinding sun with fleece home of collar and wreath beginning fascinations speak oscillated here. River sky counter clock spy glass but in bug holograph eyebrows? Do they mix you up so know that we are there if such a dream existed before their were cowboys then the world is round and we can landscape our minds correctly with your pockets empty introducing who?

Copyright © June 2002 Scott T Rabb


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