1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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