poetry critical

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a talk with my five month old son
unknown

its too bad
 1
you won't remember
 2
these sugar-tit days.
 3
because save for a few
 4
momentary peaks
 5
down the road,
 6
its all vagina rerun
 7
and stretchmarks after twenty-five.
 8
and the atrophy is swift and unforgiving young man.
 9
i'm talking dig in your heels
 10
but your ankles snap clean the fuck off.
 11

12 Feb 07


(define the words in this poem)

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Funny.
 — unknown

*teehee*
 — chuckles

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