romancing jocelyn

She know sometimes

She carries a hamper of bourgeois

For the world’s

Milky sunrise

Yet she knows she shudders

At the crop

Of her partial stunt

That will dispirit her yellow wristband’s creed.

An Artemis behind bifocals

She shrouds Tonic sex

Sprouting seedy shreds from my

Pigeoned chin while I sing

Funny range of her plump figure

As the wind weave

My breath

Whaling my lush verses

To the cove of her zephyr bag

Running a bit friendless

Since her tryst with teenage hurt.

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