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The
Tale of the Queen of Endor
by Clayton Beach
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A
line is drawn in the sand.
Tentatively, you put your toe across.
Grabbing your hand, I pull you over,
And the game begins anew.
Hypotheticals and innuendoes,
Teased and tensed, locked in verbal battle.
Pheromones spill out into the air,
Entwine and caress in their ancient dance.
We imagine our walls are carefully constructed.
They are easily breached.
Inch by ecstatic inch we push forward,
Falling down together, calling a truce.
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