I lay in moments ago.
I rolled around feeling like Norma Cole
then my mind was the telephone directory
or the Matrix visualized because I thought of you.
Who can translate French poetry
better than seagull you?
Let's okay?
I don't still don't love you.
You should be able and France,
you should stay cold, to shrug
and remember,
crossing this illusion.
December 4th.
The word door Will at heart.
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