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Poem: That’s The Way Love Is 

Her breath—
Her breath—
Her breath—

was sour with warm beer in the morning when she kissed me

Aaahhhhhhhhhh…

Pale slope of her breast

Let me witness
Your shoulder blades
Permit me
To
Adorn your interior
With all that
I know
This morning
We are vapor

Her breath—
Her breath—
Her breath—

was sour with warm beer in the morning when she kissed me

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Speaking of...

  • A poem by Robert Calero.

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