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erotic poem

você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
você ouve a chuva?
a noite era preta e drear
os navios estão encontrando-se na baía
o que era ele os motores ditos
um poeta, fazendo exame do breio fora de sua lingüeta
temos nós nenhum shame?

 



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