No Donkeys Anymore

​Laminate me, 

Make my body flat and easy, 

Make my movements swift and clumsy, 

Descending like the eager goat, 

A blank face and the moribund coat, 

Of a life outdoors, 

Dirt its augur, sweat the stench, 

But memory never.

The face turns North, 

In any direction, 

Whither which way the air is coolest, 

And clean with the scent of growing grass.

Not the cesspool sought, 

Nor the seductive ass.

That danger in the defilement, 

Of a dim and luscious donkey. 

Would not occur within the space, 

Allowed by my stiff plastic case. 

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