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The way yellowed teeth smoke their cigarettes on the dead end road down from work:some women still like to be whistled

at for a compliment.
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the painted dream of more tattoo's
                          from the parlors speaking flash.
the drinkers blow their paychecks;
                           round after round near the rail yard, old as the city itself.
these damsels save themselves now days.

Written by samael (Zaroff poetry)
Published
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