the hotel bedsprings creak with her free rhythm haiku - it is morning it is night this weekend in sofia thousands of people are making love wearing out the beds the floors the sheets the sounds of lovers penetrate thick walls like doof doof or the ocean though not so soft as that her voice grows with tsunami passion wires da da - oh now she has fallen off the bed - i look across you're asleep but tomorrow morning we too will make love & i'll listen to our sounds melting into bedsprings


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