A little forgetfulness will go a long way
A frost-bound paradise is not far away.
It is somewhere in the vast wild wastes
Its tree birds buried under sheets of ice.
A path opens up for cloaked strangers
Looking back at the horizon for progress.
Now let us forget where we are headed.

Let us call a picture dirty and its women
In fleshy cleavages that fall over  drapes.
Let us forget their angst, their belly fears
Of fetuses,of known genders of machines.
Let us generate a wealth of wiggles, giggles,
Addressed to the beast in our underarms
Hid under rolls of perfumed forgetfulness.

Our  forgetting is a hole in our throbbing,
A  forgiveness ,a sandal paste on our throat
In a throwback to more  forgettable times 
When death ended up a hole in icy wastes
And a December ice would cover its tracks.

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