Current Issue About Editorial Note Archives Submitting Links		Tim Kindberg Photograph Your head's a little down but your look is angled straight at the camera. The light's eye-linered you, plumped your cheeks and lips from gauntness. There's a touch of Marc Almond singing Tainted Love. Your lips have sealed but two shining silver zips are undone on your motorcycle jacket. Photograph In the photo booth, you look like you've had a philosophical argument and lost. There was no rhinoceros under the table. He proved it to you by giving you a good kicking. Next Poem
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