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Sonny Hugg and the Porcupine This baby porcupine squeezing into a crevice of rock Could be hauled out into the open, Poked with a stick, and otherwise toyed with, But cute as he was he couldn’t be kissed. Love rose tender in the heart of Sonny Hugg, And he dreamed impossible dreams. But all those bristles! His mind twisted and turned To find a workable solution. To hug this improbable child was important to him, The child willing or no, and who could say it wasn’t willing. Maybe the Gillette, the garden shears . . . No, without those spurs This creature would be unlovable as a rat. Sonny was versatile, but this defeated him. He faced reality. A porcupine for a lover? Alas, he would have to settle for those creations Not quite as darling but with bodies good for hugging. 65 ...

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