| not wishing to stand to leave my chair afore the table I sit, consider I the orangepeel in its ashtray ( my ashtray, immobile) ruffled scent along my nostrils & pips I will not stand to leave nor lick my fingers, plucking pith from the last orange lip toward my own lastly I am out of oranges &, alone, can I will shall buy more oranges before home she returns? |
Tuesday, July 1
If Ashtrays & Orangepeel
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