Tricky Kids

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All of six years ancient,

Midst the manic roar of child abandon,

Slowly he raises his wrinkled brown hand,

As if ratcheted from the other side of the world,

And gently pats the top of mine.

Sharp with viper eyes,

He places his stud player slips

Into her pink fairy zipped.

Demented with the nose runs,

All kissy in the fur,

She panics through the deathly possibilities,

As if every is her last.

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