Bad Lust in Spring

Who are these women

Biking by,

Immaculately disheveled,

Whose locks are grooved

By wind

Unfurling in broken sheafs

Like erotic flags

Or perfect curling waves

Of perfume

Who are these women

Striding down Alberta street

In vacuum sealed jeans

That hug every ounce of precious leg

Causing some primal want

To lovingly dimple their butts

With a single

Canine

Tooth

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