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Annual Convention
larrylark

They shuffled, adjusted their cuffs nervously,
 1
whispered unfunny anecdotes. All the previous
 2
gatherings seemed to stretch out behind  
 3
in a never ending procession, as in
 4
the Sunday morning confessional,
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where empty gestures give salve to the soul.
 6
 
 
As the front door was flung wide open they roared,
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wild beasts waking in a cage.
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The fortunate waved turquoise shaded tokens
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as they rushed towards a large box wrapped in gaudy pink,
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tied tight with yellow ribbon links. The word was spoken.
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Out leapt Madame, strong as a lion, muscled as a bull.
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Her pecs glowed in fluorescent light, shining
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from chandeliers, to where the faint hearted repaired
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even though they knew there was nowhere to hide,
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for not one corner would she neglect.
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All were whipped soundly, thrashed to within
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an inch of their lives, those with tokens got it twice.
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In a trice she had gone, and not even the senior execs
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had enough strength to drag themselves to the lectern
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and wearily announce
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”Same place, same time, next year.”
 22

21 Sep 07


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Comments:

what a great new poem?

oh, great is an understatement. try dazzling. (as you do here.)

--listen
 — unknown

Finally at last a lone voice in the wilderness, someone who truly listens.

Thank you

Larry lone voice Lark
 — larrylark

Ahhh...lovely. I missed your knack of the absurd :) I love Madame's pecs, and I always knew that those types had strange fetishes. Speaking of which, might you be "Larry the strange fetish Lark"? ;)

You learned to punctuate and space after a full stop!! Yay!!
 — wendz

Hi Wendz

Sorry to disappoint Wendz but I'm a straight up and down guy who likes wearing fur lined underpants on the week end.

Larry close to nature Lark
 — larrylark

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