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Whistler

hand like a bear's paw
mouth like a whistling deer

sounds like a splinter
of broken glass

you must be a bellhop
the way you eye that little moving hand
says what floor the elevator's at

you pucker again
only a single peep
comes out
like the wallet you slipped
from your own back pocket

face like a child's dish
never suspecting
your one hand's guilt

yeah spending the money
on shoeshines and brass polish
a purchase of socks
a paperweight
made entirely
of glass

the stars come out

pinpricks
along the back of your hand




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