My raptor gaze pierces ironies and picadillos,
Two spots of advantage against head-to-toe
Perfection, mind like a canyon,
Broad at the top and sharp on the way down,
Thoughts spoken by a statue's face,
A ready laugh moves a body to heat up the place.
I play what I have for everything it's worth,
The Little Engine Might-Could Move the Earth,
Or he could make a mistake and lose appeal.
I feel my gut tighten around my last meal.
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