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THE FORCE

Gene Rhea Tucker

 

Something to hang a dream on

Fragrant shadows of smoke

Incense

Lost to the power of air

And suggestion

 

Something evil lurks around

Playful shrines of love

Intercourse

Swayed by the power of music

And melody

 

Excess leads to veneration

A pink flower tattooed on her shoulder

Strum those guitars

Before the night grows colder

 

Or so I’ve been told