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narrative poetry

pela ponte rude
cara esposa
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
teria mesmo seu gracejo
aqueles olhos pretos i elogiado uma vez assim
olhar além
disse
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
mulher boa
fora da janela um mar de árvores verdes
porque então, a obrigação nós vê?
temos nós nenhum shame?

 



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