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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2009-06-08 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
The Secret
the doctor is soccer referee he scoops full-of-puss ankle and whistles penalties in my brain (in this game applause comes later) the bacillus is a ball made of rags on the pitch of my skeleton I can’t score a goal and mother shouts goal not to break her maidenhood knick-knack but she abandoned me in a sanatorium the nurse brings the bedpan the chamber-pot to my bed sometimes when less busy she sends me letter ending ,,we just can’t wait to see you again and lots of kisses from me” but I don’t believe her I know she doesn’t want me to soil her sheet with puss and blood again her spotless house populated by father who looks at me as if I was a lathe refuse I wonder is she knows I was playing with myself or it just occurred to me Traducerea Petru Iamandi
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