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Walking hand in hand
through the summer rain,
drenched cotton sculpted
your insolent breasts.
Wrestling sodden levi's
in that sweltering hayloft
your crippling smile
hammerlocked my tongue.
© 1999 William James
Donna
lives next door--
we are seven, summer-brown.
Under the peonies, we giggle and squirm,
a living pink cage, two fluttering birds;
while outside, young peaches, beginning to swell
and the delicate folds of a budding, pale rose.
One vigorous twig aches for the sky,
while cherry-stones roll in the petal-flecked dust.
Our clenched lips brush, her open eyes shine,
we've discovered an itch
that we cannot yet scratch.
© 1990, William James and The Rocky Mountain Collegian
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"To
the Hayloft"
©Jennifer VanBuren
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