deepundergroundpoetry.com

Picking Daisies
she loves me
she doesn’t give a fig
she loves me
especially when she thaws
she likes to pick daisies
repeating well-known phrases
until one day she stopped
looked at me and said
who are you and why are you between my thighs
took me about fifteen more minutes
before I could answer her
by then she had forgotten what she’d asked
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