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Nappies
in a wheelchair now, she's
a shadow of her history,
crippled us with lust in
the pomp of her mystery
to out-patients in my taxi,
whispers: "is it you Fred?"
of times when I loved her
immortal, not half-dead
dropped me for a broker
always cute and naughty,
oozed sex, a Lana Turner
mercenary and haughty
begs me to take her to bed,
purely for old ...
Friday 4th December 2020 11:13 am
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