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That Damned Skateboard

At her neck’s nape, the

red splotch still lurks, a

sunny chick’s fuzz covers the

scar of snarling angels, roaring,

refusing her newborn release.

“Angel bite!” I say and smile and

tug the pony’s tail until

my darling turns, lip curling strangely over still-pointed teeth – board bouncing, sparks soar and metal screams so loud I freak! Still her breasts

float like wings.

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