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I choke on her paisley
pillow case, patchouli
incense burns my eyes
like tear gas or mace,
I fight her bandanas
my ankles and wrist squirm
like 4 knots on 4 bedposts,
like the locks of her hair
in the fist of her father
who was a drunk farmer,
and believed everything
long, tall & blond
must be hoed down.