I swear the gaudy girl tumbled
briefly, deeply in love with him
that moonlit night in May.
I love you, I love you, I love you she chanted,
her porcelain wrists wrapped around his head
as they limbo-danced under the post.
But passion turns sour by daylight.
Such instant love could not endure.
He served separation papers
before the moon could rise once more.
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