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Collected Poetry

    (rd king dot net)
poetry and digital art

In California

  Two Tacos


There the tacos sat
on a little bed of shredded lettuce

between the refried beans
and the Spanish rice.

If I were feeling like myself
I would be quite pleased

to devour these brown-skinned
beauties, belching openly—

but something secret has me
feeling estranged with this life.

How to behave?  How to behave
against this alias:  tacos.




 
     
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