| Angels and sailors,
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| Rich girls, backyard fences, tents,
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| Dreams watching each other narrowly,
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| Soft luxuriant cars.
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| Girls in garages, stripped
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| Out to get liquor and clothes,
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| Half gallons of wine and six packs of beer.
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| Jumped, humped, born to suffer,
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| Made to undress in the wilderness.
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| I will never treat you mean.
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| Never start no kind of scene.
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| I’ll tell you
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| Every place and person that I’ve been.
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| Always a playground instructor
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| Never a killer.
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| Always a bridesmaid
|
| On the verge of fame or over,
|
| He manuevered two girls
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| Into his hotel room.
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| One a friend,
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| The other, the young one,
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| A newer stranger.
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| Vaguely Mexican or Puerto Rican.
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| Poor boys thighs and buttocks
|
| Scarred by a father’s belt.
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| She’s trying to rise.
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| Story of her boyfriend
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| Of teenage stoned death games.
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| Handsome lad, dead in a car.
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| Confusion.
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| No connections.
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| Come here.
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| I love you.
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| Peace on earth.
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| Will you die for me?
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| Eat me.
|
| This way.
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| The end.
|
| I’ll always be true.
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| Never go out, sneaking out on you, babe.
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| If you’ll only show me Far Arden again.
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| I’m surprised you could get it up.
|
| He whips her lightly, sardonically with belt.
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| «Haven't I been through enough?"she asks,
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| Now dressed and leaving.
|
| The Spanish girl begins to bleed;
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| She says her period.
|
| It’s Catholic heaven.
|
| I have an ancient Indian crucifix around my neck.
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| My chest is hard and brown.
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| Lying on stained, wretched sheets
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| With a bleeding virgin,
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| We could plan a murder
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| Or start a religion. |