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Elvis on Velvet, Swivel Hips could he find me he is the King after all and I'm here flushed it's not Graceland but close the lemonade sour and cold biting ice cubes spends the time left the King is the King on black and white grainy images with odorless neon flowers pasted on wedding bows; next to worn out babes who sit around and glare like slicked back for a while hair that stands instead of grows —Kim A. Jaxtheimer 92 ...

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