The Friend (Marge Piercy Poems)
We sat across the table. he said, cut off your hands. they are always poking at things. they might touch ...
We sat across the table. he said, cut off your hands. they are always poking at things. they might touch ...
She wore little teeth of pearls around her neck. They were grinning politely and evenly at me. Unsuitable they smirked. ...
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