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Seven days I sat vigil, with Lincoln’s Ghost
On hunting trails, in Russia, in true Mississippi, in the blowback mountains,
Run down, ya know, from the communism.

Her crackly spine, her backlit grammar
Summers in Washington, but that was back then,
Call me from the hamptons I dare you,
I dare you give me all the violent rhythms up front,
See each other in towels.

She split herself between nursery and rhyme
Loaded up with a noveau riche glasses and a normal attitude
asked about how much pine boxes cost,
Over dinner nonetheless-
with golden toothpicks and frostbit glares,
We built this life, same as before,
with added pressures

While great whales are out there, giving great advice
and having a great time
Rolls Royce breakfasts, with samples in them
And traction’s champion still flounder

Especially in California’s buckets
With bombast bear hunters
And tricky language
On a sunny day
with city wide snakes and bright sun beetles shine on eye level

In charm’s atlas,
With good girls getting it at last
On crab saturday nights, among
Hotelier kids and orange crush,
50 miles of the coast of Cuba

In body’s rush and blue tie kids
Tar pouring from their sweat glands,
In fall’s sweet potato blossom
When hacky sacks grow
And walls wave with the burlap
Your son’s growth, among fellow gentlemens
Wearing spree killer sunglasses

These little blue devils and mackerel glamours,
Keep your eyes open
Relax man,
They’re coming in 2038.

From Up There.
So to all fat magistrates
The girls in the triboro
I have a story for you

Started in weak wind
Sailboat jux, 1995 of the coast of africa
15 guys, skinny, elephant guns
Took shelter on a golden skiff
And transplanted a peoples

So now I got her open
Spilling love all down her throat,
Deadly flavor school, harsh denim jeans
No mercy for police, on to the next chapter, my black habits
Great track stars,
Olives and julips,
Like Caesar’s last scroll
He was a scholar, a business man
Now he scoops Grammy winners like the phantom of the opera,
Our son, the first man to leave earth.

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