folded is like connected
to song
to dance
colors crinkled
on a piled up bed
aren't bad either
the undeniable presence in my pants
is like the dryers heat in yours
tumbling slow
spin spun slung
warm dive into a fresh pile
then stuffed
in a deep shelving
not quite as guilty
as eternal sin
but fresh and bouncy
just like muddled with a smell
distinct but you never know
where its gonna land
jesus said
as she washed his feet.
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