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seven inches
me got last night
seven inches and a slight chip more
old man winter speaks
me tells ‘im to shut it
me clutches his neck and throws him all asea
seven inches last night
me thinks I shall have seven more tonight
I dreamt of you
today
though I didn’t see your face
I knew
it was you
the number was seven
and it was bright yellow
Ramblings of a Medicated Lady: Words of Woe by Loria Taylor 
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