Your girlfriend spells out albumen.
But I would put out
The sexiest game, and she comes up
with the tools of her trade. I lift a foot to the inside
of my knee. It is July and I need to cool off.
You drink iced tea, and line up
your game tiles.
She looks up at me, a pretty brunette,
and says with a laugh—He always wins.
Then beat him, I say. You smile,
or wince. It looks the same on you.
I was called greedy
when they saw my wingspan.
Antinomian. I stretched out
wide arms and rose for flight. I craned my neck.
I took my fill. They called me the devil.
But they were absent at the prelude.
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