obviously, she can't tell a joke, plus there was a door
haven't had eggnog for years can't fathom the stuff
there were no baroque bars along the Bosphorus
her seeds banged to life up and down in brickies' hods
the pithy dithyrambic dirge she sings all spires of yesteryear
an unhandled exception has occurred Magellan's bored
akimbo gestures my despair a future looking mighty tense
now that she has a bowl of collages in her room
you could draw the conclusion I'm some flaming a**hole
they'll be no jewry tamerind here
out! like a fireman at the bell out to her own fire
inbox spam outhouse tomatoes the usual suspect lives
but, when she returns, her shnozzle
fits like a snub-nosed in my eye muzzle to my head
.
SONNET #8: Take a Taxi to Taksim Square
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