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hid from my aging ape eyes but not from
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the gaze of young memory the juvenile breasts
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i had fondled one immortal day and,
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as if I were the fairy tale nurse of
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some little princess lost, kidnapped, discovered in gypsy rags
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through which her nakedness smiled at the king and his hounds,
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I recognized the tiny, dark-brown mole on her side.
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With awe and delight,
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(the king crying for joy, the trumpets blaring, the nurse drunk),
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I saw again her lovely in-drawn abdomen where my southbound mouth
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had briefly paused and those puerile hips on which I had kissed the
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crenulated imprint left by the band of her shorts that last mad,