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precious little man

your precious little hooks
easily penetrate my upper dermis,
they spill from your smile -
sweet, haunting, insidious.
precious little words
come to
precious little naught,
and though I ought
to have known,
I'd become accustomed to
that familiar pain,
a sign I could identify, feel;
the pain made it real.
but you cared only for the
precious little coins and
precious little notes.
the garden still grows and
I could care less,
so, amphibious man,
you failed the test.



© 2003 Dianne Monnier. All rights reserved.