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Jim Smith
High heels
The way you look
In those high heels
Wish I could feel
Your gesturing impossibility
You horrible thigh curves
The drum beating
Cymbal crashing
You into my head
Please go away
This face pounding
Into my eyes
The cannibal's crowd
Eyes dripping sweat
Waiting to see
If you respond
Begging for you
To make them real
Good luck
Dirty pavement
Slippery path
Looking for something
Sacred and silent
I don't even answer the phone
Until I've had two drinks
A muscular boy
And cuervo confidence
Runs his tongue up your neck
Your cheek to your ear
I have never understood or
Wanted to believe it could be true
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