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The Freudian Position I stared at her lying on the bed naked and looking half-dead. I wanted to plant my obelisk in her secret garden-she kept hidden locked, guarded by Cerberus, explored by strange men. A monument to my success as a man-I thought. My phallus-undesirable serpent, tempting with seminal poison-the knowledge of friends and lovers her phobia of feelings she would not acknowledge but platonic-in denial as always. The wily ways of Eve turn this ink-dribbling tool limp-sometimes, a pen is just a pen.
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