A Thanksgiving PoemPG-RatedHe laid her on the table, So white, clean and bare. His forehead wet with beads of sweat, He rubbed her here and there. He touched her neck and then her breast, And then, drooling, felt her thigh. The slit was wet and all was set, He gave a joyous cry. The hole was wide... he looked inside, All was dark and murky. He rubbed his hands and stretched out his arms, And then he stuffed the turkey. 906
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