The Lam

I   once married a girl . . .
she became a woman
and left my ass,

well, all of me—
for Atlantic white cliffs
and puffy sheep in rain.

Mull on the coastal plain,
the moist air slowly drifts:
circling from sea.

Look in the glass:
at the dance | she moved on.
Was it the dip or the twirl?

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