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poem for dad

parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
je suis dans l'amour avec les endroits prévoyants élevés
bas! 'tis par nuit de gala
il aurait même sa plaisanterie
en tant qu'elle
comme je me trouve couvert dedans, examiné dedans
par le pont grossier

 



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