23 Aug 2013, 3:07pm
Writing
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Our very own motorcycle club

that basement is a supple dress
you don’t put it away
you might go down there sometime
be at the bar & eat oysters & drink cold ones
I’ll meet you / we’ll talk the shit while they play pool behind us
(swagger, their leather banging against the wall)

in your dress, hiked up, black underwear / I’ll say
the moon is full, fuller than I remember / you’ll
put your bare foot on my leg

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