Wednesday, December 19, 2012

i am not a racehorse

your friend from
germany
who used to visit
every blue
moon wore
prada
and gucci, leather
boots
and a feathery
boa
wrapped around
her tanned
neck, even at
high noon. i am
not a racehorse,
she used
to say to you
in the heat of
a romantic
moment, don't
slap me and you
listened because
you were afraid.

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