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        f l u s h
         you're so 
        pretty please 
        let me see what it's like 
        cheeks pulled 
        themselves into splotches of rudd 
        a pornographic pansy revealed 
        no one ever admits being 
        secretly glad 
        that one 
        was taken 
        advantage 
        of 
        one always lies 
        about the precarious state 
        of innocence 
        adolescence is 
        less than 
        what we think 
        there are hairs 
        and sitting 
        alone pressing– 
        –the converse? 
        an excretion of frames and scrawl 
        burnished with an antiphon of "two" 
        it is the first blush of youth 
        it is you pressed against me with hard hopes 
        it is down the toilet 
        this is the way the cliché begins 
        this is too late to say—nothing 
        this is teetering on a mossy limb 
        wipe that look off your face 
        wipe your nose wipe 
        your ass 
        
          
        dante woo, 1997 
         
  
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