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95 Moon on the Porch Moon on the porch thumps his tail when I climb the stairs. He’s got a rock in mouth, old dog, and will I play? Old teeth worn into stubs from carrying rocks. Old Moon who limps as far as we’ll walk him. Drinks from the hot tub when you’re not looking, when the moon slides over the edge of the roof and naked into the water. I didn’t know then this would be a poem to all my lovers, planted by you in the full moon, the water running off your breasts, falling like silver coins into a pool. I didn’t know then how many women I was learning to love. ...

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