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Barefoot on Thin Ice


Blue face
No blueberries yet
But the snow is
Sweating off the rocks.
The kid only ate
A quart last time
The naughty virgin.
Blue face
Black conscience
So I had to die laughing.
The plants are happening, though
Sprouting through the granite
Like the fireworks display
That didn't quite make it.
At least they know
Where I should tread
And of the virtue
Of a blue face.
 
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