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Red-headed beehives with polka dot dresses
patent stilettos and sweaty caresses.
Brownstone with railings right up to the door
potting the pink on a bare wooden floor.
Fly shit on light bulbs in shite covered shit-holes.
Half empty beer cans in melamine soup bowls.
Spread like some wheel spokes on top of the bed
banging the hub till it glows cherry red.
	
	
	
	
		
	
 
 
	
	
	
		
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		Retro. And delightfully so. I absolutely adore how the first stanza is just what you see as in a movie, a memorial to the "good" and the second is what lies beneath the beehives and young debonair busboys. I also like how I feel an important part of the story in the middle is missing, it adds a complex wonder that makes me also believe that the answer lies hidden somewhere half in the beginning and half in the end. I may have confused the actual message up a bit with my take on it but whatevs I like it. 
 
	
		
	
 
 
	
	
	
		
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		thanks for the feedback and kind words jadie