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strange beds (1989) (Pimple) by Bill Z Bub
Above the class party,
I breathe through her hair
that envelops my head.
beyond truth or dare,
pure lust
left unsaid.
Remembering how
I was found lying there
beneath her thin body
mouthing a prayer
behind the good couch
and under the chair.
Kissing her earlobes
and under her chin,
delicate heaven
inevitable sin.
Hands behind cushions,
limbs being spread,
the moment now lost,
the movement of dread.
the yellowed still picture
inside my head,
a quick intake
of breath
upon these
strange beds.
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