YOUR SCAMPI.MY SKULL

Your scampi, my skull
are all alone in skin
and sweat, ranging from
                         dinner with God
to dinner with all of the Skinner-box kids
It's a four-square standing offer

Not that I'm going to lecture
I'll skip down the hall in my armor
my trick words, Boll Weevil
and Fassbinder

To poem

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