it was, a morocco love, then nevada crazy yellow
with lonely houses, no vega’s sight,
where women live you can’t ignore
and can’t help knocking on their doors
that watch you through the magic eye
appraising you,

emerging man
that comes from far, temperate worlds,
stands stiff
and turgid -
another cactus

with inner ingrid-bergman’s flower
that pushes out juicy fingers
on sappy petals
underneath

your thousand kisses muzzily kissed
back by thousand n’ one Lil’ tales.

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