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It means nothing to them?
those girls with peaches and cream, café au lait, peau de couleur foncée
their lush hair, plump calves, rosy cheeks
kiss us like they mean it with open mouth, little inquiring tongue
force of two coming together, chests heaving in sync
who knew straight girls could give so much in the heat of a moment?
unhooking bras, peeling underwear, knowing they’ll be kissed where
their boyfriends press with lack of ardor
for we girls are midnight foxes, we stay in places others only visit
complaining of neck pain, jaw pain, inability to know the ins and outs
oh we know the ins and outs, we know the inside curl and the convex
like a well drawn map
they pull their panties down for us so eagerly, we’d be fooled into thinking
they were of our…
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