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Postmodern Village
est. 1999
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I think she needs a sugar daddy, or at least a man with a bigger bathroom
by Hezekiah Allen Taylor

he manages to fit this around
a beef burrito--the words falling out
from the back like loose filling

in moments like these he reminds me
of a purple pastel Peep (those fluffy Easter treats)
he'd hate to hear me say that--really hate it
but sometimes--when he's not trying so hard--
that brittle sweet surface becomes translucent
revealing vulnerability (or a marshmallow center)
both equally tasty when devoured

girl, finding that sugar daddy would require
incisors cutting through a bunny jugular
the pulling off of pert purple ears
the consumption of a fine sugar ass

besides, every man's bathroom
is white hospital simplicity
not a HGTV high-polished sheen

in truth: he will not put the toilet seat down
or the cap back on the toothpaste
or hang the towel to dry
and he'll never wipe up the water
he splatters from the faucet (like orgasm)
when he shaves

but he'll feel bad about it
really he will

Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version -- Inspiration
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