The Beech is
Robin Padilla melting under intense light
so near I hear his voice
so far I can't see his face
The Beach was
someplace I've been but without the swim
with men who wear funny hats
with women pretending to be queens
The Bits are
cracked ice melting in blended whiskey
fishhead steamed in tin foils
pork fat burning on the grill
The Bitch is
a clueless vamp with a grain for a head
she invite tears like a peeled onion
she has teeth like sunflower seeds
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