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A Poem in the Before Choice Disturbs collection


Sweet-sick silence
Gulps me up
Swears to the taste
Of stale beer,
But I've had none.

He returns,
His chick in tow,
To hide behind the balsa-wall.
The plywood door shuts with a --SMACK--

His laughter winds
Through wood--
To bed groans.

In my room,
I catch each creak
and every carnal giggle

Alone... alone... alone
I'm alone,
On cool
Even sheets.

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