My [mind/body/heart] isn't tired of sex, only of dichotomy.

Come, it calls. Two by two by two to welcome. 
               In my future, could there be a pair of in-

line skates? will I make a beeline

for a hammock between two camphor

              trees? Some red comes from lipstick trees

              flaming like a portent. Will the world end in flames,

ice; or the disappearance of prejudice

at last, just as we dissolve into melanoblasts?   


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