love poem of sorts
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Love is fried chicken you’re never certain – follow the rules of etiquette… …or just dive in, use your fingers savory satisfying finger-lickin’ chew-on-bone yummy, messy heart-healthy artery clogging oh-so-tasty Love is fried chicken but when all is said and done just what do you do with the gnawed on bones? – Mark Lucker Read more
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Love is a driver’s license photo You know who the person in the picture is – sort of, maybe you think it is you – your glazed eye, mug-shot provenance makes even you double-check triple-check yourself in the mirror the morning after facial expression defying logical description; contorted hybrid of happiness and electrocution-by-chair It was Read more
