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Sweet. With Flies Before respectable dawn, His wife angelic at his side, His dreams rise purple, crimson, Wet as mortal sin. Like jungle fruit, red yellow rotten, Buzzing with fat green flies, But sweet, oh passing sweet, Dribbling sticky down his chin. And what forbidden blossoms! Sister-in-law, his neighbor's wife Of slitted silk and tropic thigh: Partners in shame and riot; Old Aunt Ida, leering from her bed, Cousin Suzy, naked, skating figure eights; Heather from work, a crossing guard; Miss Wood, his sixth-grade teacher. Finally he throws back the sour sheets, Puts on a good brown suit and knots his tie, Kisses his drowsy wife and rides to work. Hangs up his coat, nods at Heather.
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