I have no stamina for lyric let's catalogue what we have. In the book a man is lying in bed drifting in & out of sleep, listening to a radio station, voices & dreams.
It is hot here and it is hot there.
A fly drones above my open legs; the fly remembers with me fleshy fullness between my legs and above, all the weight crushing my breasts back into me. I am a boy now.
I think these things, remember them, heave hot & sink, where drowsy, voluptuous feelings are cut short by the format.
I have no stamina for lyric the fly has settled somewhere. I heard a dog growling outside so I turned on the porch light & stood there folding socks. The dog was next door but sounded much closer.
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