***
A café with tables on the sidewalk
a striped summer Sunday not professional
prostitutes, not necessarily moneyed
women tourists, but nymphets wee on you.
You may as well die of hunger, it’s a matter
that is of interest to you. Here you can kiss
where you want and all of them around
have a weird smile. Here live misunderstood
passions as in a water closet. And the hungry
people are happy here and make a face of monkey
like the frogs on the bank.
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