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I kissed you while you were asleep
dreaming of breasts like cereal bowls.

Because of you, I knew I would
love men forever.

Even though we fought like
Cowboys and Indians, your

lips were like marshmallows
that sent off a chain reaction

of wondering if you were cut or uncut,
and how good your ass would really feel

in the hands of a 12 year old.
Now at thirty three you live with your mother

after losing a house and two girlfriends.
You're a sanitation worker for the city.

Your life is paint drying, but I still
remember kissing that soft mouth of my aunt's oldest son.

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