I'd choose love over bread;
a room filled with candles
with wolves scratching at
my door. Why pretend we
cannot be all we want to be?
My favorite things are not
gold coins or ornate jewelery,
the coins are spent, the rings
cut off your circulation.
For example, I really like
my feet. They take me out
for walks in rain, dance
even when the music dies,
they look good in mud
and love the feel of grasses.
How much are my feet worth
on the open market?
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