“Quicken”
a raw egg of a quail
hands on the phone
to search for such words
how it means to be guilt or even a ball
I’m at search
love goes with the joke as I’m found
dad hands me tissue paper
my nose is blown until the wheels sail on my mind
so I poke, I pick numbers
everybody else is another story
https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/quicken-2/
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