Lemon Tree
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he set the lemon tree on fire
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and left for outer space humming
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an Elton John tune.
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the Lincoln Continental got him to the moon.
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Seeing Spots
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spiders for corners
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of eyes. gossamer ghosts
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of things I might have seen.
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dragonflies while driving,
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gnats on the telephone, aphids aphids in my hair,
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figments of beetles burst bubbles in the bath.
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there are mothmen everywhere.
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bugs that swim beneath my skin
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and surface on my eyes
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or in my ears spinning
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their compulsive record
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on their pointed proboscis
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awaiting the eventual feast hosted
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by this chosen cadaver.
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