The girl closes the door to the bathroom,
Embarrassed to be seen in
All her glory.

Holy, holy, holy Ginsburg says.
Holy is the soul, the skin
Even the seraphim.
I say Holy is in the shadows,
In intelligence—
In moxy.
Yet she has none
That’s why she’s with me.
Instead of taking one, shes talking shit
Pulling out her secret stash
Inbetween shags;

I don’t know why she needs to hide
Her compulsions
As she can plainly see
With her one good eye,
I am a train wreck myself.

Her desire to makes me wonder–
Where have all the good ones gone,
What has become of the whores in
This city of emeralds,
Do they even open their eyes at who their


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