New Property 

Scent of hot grasses.   The sun a coin of molten electrum.   In a white 
dress of thin muslin, her areolae bloom dark as the plums warm from 
the tree.   With a thirst like this there's no help for it.   You thieve and 
wipe your chin, laughing at the myth of ownership.

wicked pretty 
with eyes the blue 
of burning alcohol
eyes
to fuck a heart

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Copyright © 2005 by Larry Kimmel