Gal Story

If she'd really building,
Then a block, a bank,
A car she drove down a hellish grade
A finally faucet of light
pouring hillsides onto the
afternoon of wheels.

She's dealing, she's got
to have a job, little miss marker
of sorts of chocolates,
a healthy spade
full of dirt on cue,
a cradle, a gravy boat
of organ music announcing...
arrive, bouncing, pounding
arcade.


 

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