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Joseph Veronneau |
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Vicariously A town so close together, you can hear your neighbors dying, being brought out of homes on flat-bedded stretchers. Hear our neighbors laughing, the sitcom or dirty movie blasting above certified company warrantee refunds. Hear our neighbors fucking, pounding and clawing for heightened sensations previously expected to remain unattainable. But more than any of that, I can hear myself thinking, cold whispers turned into maddening thumps of unarticulated pressure, hoping to gather ourselves close enough to smell the armpits of God. Lucky Bastard Took photographs of all of the women He'd slept with On casual nights Would drag out the drawer From its secret hiding And flaunt them around Like he was the one With the large tits They'd all move on To other things But the pleasure was all his Time And Time again. [Index] |
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Thunder Sandwich #26 - Summer/Fall 2005 |
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