In frills for thrills
High heels for weather
Wherever we find grass together
You know what?
Pavement, too
You don’t need perfect
Conditionally
You need an Un prefixed
My magic practically
A ball if we have one
My socks knotted if not
Convenience is for me
But “I’d do anything for you” is paternal platitude
Your Dada studied “Show me, don’t tell me” in Theatre
I’ll make molehills out of mountains
Til the pickaxe snaps
Keep breaking bare-fisted
Til my eye-backs black
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