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Saturday, April 27, 2013

Leotard

Umbrian muffle for rifles unknown
control thy gun for weekends of love.
Master of the estate and Mistress of Yugoslavia,
we have all been there before kissing her toes.
We relate the most to the Countess of Flair,
for her ball gowns glisten like freshly cleaned teeth
after a visit to the dentist.
Of course the Duchess in Trailblazer Derby,
may she ever spread her cream cheese smoothly.

On the outskirts of Paris, the lion tamer is nude in his dressing room. Standing before the full length mirror, he puts on his leotard. In one swift motion of his body flexing like a ripple on water,
the leotard is stuck to him like glue. Suction cupped masculinity, false mustache of horse hair, pierced ears of crude bronze loops, thigh high latex socks; he looks as if he's travelled the cosmos. The lion is awaiting his whip....

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