When I saw you, dirty,
broke, and hungry,
My diarhhea paused, my
eyes were stars
To hear your tales of
exploits strange and sundry
Regaled from plastic
chairs in sordid bars.
Your smile infects my soul
and oozes, puslike,
Delight across my face to
root like fungal
Infections that cause
temperatures to spike
Across my throbbing
microfloral jungle.
Come lie with me on beds
of patterned blankets,
Thin shield against the
cold bespidered ground,
We'll wake and walk to
greasy fried food banquets
Then board our separate
buses and abscond.
Enduring as amoebas is our
passion,
With boundless patience,
grit, and adaptation.
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