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River Called Night
We slip into the stream
Of the river called night
At darkness or nap time
We’re swept out of sight,
Sometimes all dressed
Sometimes we’re not
The current’s so fast
Most things are forgot,
With your nipples erect
As a wild crazy hard on
You floated right by me
Like mist in a garden,
I wondered on waking
About docking stations
For our souls to realize
The physical sensations.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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