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Published on January 2, 2002

i would drive and drive
wet skishes of the rain and dreams--a
compilation newness
wistful, but only for tonight
i say perhaps as He moves
and who does know?who indeed
whether another tall self awaits my
every embrace,and she
peers inside
forced fingers craning to see the mahogany of
the soulness of me
is it you?

Filed under: Poema

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