I adore your floor
Said the woman with the mouse-shaped lips Underneath the table, she was feeding her Rottweiller chips It was almost more than I could bear And I took in a sackful of coalblack air That had rested amidst the vacuum of space Where the miller and his barefoot daughter ran apace And the water ran beneath the wooden bridge. I reached into my pulsing fridge, I removed from there twelve loaves and lox And constructed upon a bleached, beached box The remnants of a sandwich castle, Through which a passel Of tourists roamed, Who had recently been combed Having not long before been given their walking papers And set to the streets after their morning vapors. And the boats shot across the Thames and the buses Swerved past museums full of blunderbusses And I stroked your hair and I gasped for air And I closed the car door on a burst of perfume That seemed to spell the lure of the morning and doom And I waited for hamsters as cute as could be To reach for the icecubes to soften their tea.
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Yaacov David Shulman
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