Sound to reed,
waves through a wonder of chiaroscuro
in a mangrove a musician goes duckhunting
specious to the angry mallard
foot aspurred and a violent fuck
on closing in to an open throat of night security
do you have my number? the oboist shuffles
through their oh so kitschy rolodex
"where was their name again
Al, Alex, Alan, Allan, Alen, Alen, Alen, and Allen"
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