a poem every day (or something close to that)
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Baby I can drive your pizza
The pace put dances in my feet
each toe twich demanding:
"Can I put fire in your kitchen?"
as the cheese melted into my mind
and sweet basil coaxed the nose to a pointed joy,
I churned my my wheels for a dime
and made an investment out of smiles.
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