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Fumble at the Lounge (Free verse) by Rodavlas
Sprawled out on the couch Dreaming, sulking, smiling a pout. Dazing into a trance I wonder what? I turn to her, she doesn't budge. Wide-eyed perfection. Does she need affection? Feebishly showing her shoulders I breathlessly watch without her notice. Ashamed of my position, ashamed of my class I sit in the corner and I fumble the pass.

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xxx68.166.37.1850June 24, 2005 9:56 AM PDT
Anonymous64.163.148.17010July 27, 2004 6:21 PM PDT
Anonymous24.6.234.22110July 21, 2004 10:24 AM PDT
Nateislate67.42.43.1778June 30, 2004 1:00 PM PDT
nentwined66.92.183.344June 28, 2004 7:47 PM PDT
Anonymous208.59.134.3710June 28, 2004 12:10 PM PDT
edpeterson68.79.21.1776June 28, 2004 9:55 AM PDT
New Life Drug69.106.238.1556June 27, 2004 10:29 PM PDT



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