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I Couldn’t See
It was a strange conversation
Almost spoken out loud
To someone I couldn’t see,
But the way that he gestured
And looked far away
You could tell it was spiritual,
Sexual, about loneliness,
Horniness and everything
Under the sun about a man
And a woman I couldn’t see,
I heard the words too special,
Camping, lawns and knees,
Words that added to the intrigue
Without filling in the blanks,
Words that left you wondering
Why in the hell they didn’t try
To get it on, then a thought
Floated in, perhaps, just maybe
He was a monk talking
To a nun or a lady out of reach,
Some gorgeous Goddess
I
couldn’t see.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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