In a wicker basket. They get damp from the
Chilled bottle of Riesling that I brought to
Impress.
I like to watch the ducks. I like it when they quack.
The pimple on the side of your nose, it’s too cute
To hide beneath that mineral powder, hiding your
Irish freckles. You ask for a napkin, but they’re
Damp.
I like to watch the ducks. I like it when they quack.
The polyphonic ring of your phone, of course. Don’t
Answer it, please, I’ll make a wittier joke, or maybe
You wished I’d bought a rose from that peddler for
You.
I like to watch the ducks. I like it when they quack.
They migrate after summer.
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