"Close your eyes and it's 1982"
My wife, in her thirties, hates
The eighties, especially
The saxophones. I hate
Only saxophones. I'm old,
I'm super attenuated, I'm
Oh ducks, let's go to bed.
Somewhere a femur rots
In the tundra, neglected,
Undated, a solo with four holes,
While the other femur proves
Ancient DNA would have been
The thing for a man without bones.
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