No excesses, not
"Oh Cimbrian skies!";
Something slender
To tickle your ears,
Like a wind-polished
Feather scraping the space
Between your tender buttons
Or the cheeks that blush
Above your thighs. Naked
Words, unworn by common
Speech I cast aside,
Because this labor
Also has its charms,
And I would like to ride
On asphalt thronged
With busy feet.
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