sweet-dreams-and-flying-machines
White Capped Oceans
If it gets too cold, I'll sing for you.
Your favourite song about a woman's imperative
to make love with every rebel. And if it gets
too hot, I'll crack open the booze and the poems
and the lube and the anal beads. But it is neither
hot nor cold nor muggy or even anything out here
in the channel between Wales and Devon. So what the hell,
we worked hard all summer, I'll get the booze and the
poems and the lube and the anal beads...
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