don’t ever maim me
with a March in Manitoba
or stab me with
a San Francisco summer
or let me languish
in London fog
twenty years a desert rat
my blood is like
tomato consommé
waiting for hot bread
and I’d rather spend
the rest of my life
In a warm terrarium
than be murdered
in a snow globe
of Minnesota
or
watch opera
in any climate on any planet
in any universe
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