Love Song with Reuben

How I long to crunch                                                                                                                              
your greasy rye to lick my                                                                                                                     
fingers wrist and die

to stem slow hot curds of Russian running towards a ruffian elbow

farmer in the dill                                                                                                                                     
allspice and bib overalls                                                                                                                        
corned beef wunderkind.

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