Lot
By the paths
They worried
Across this lot
Visit the licks
Their rough tongues
Scoured into icons
Of pink salt
But whatever
You do don’t
Turn around
On your way back
To your car
To take one
Last look
Lest you too
Be turned
Into one
By the paths
They worried
Across this lot
Visit the licks
Their rough tongues
Scoured into icons
Of pink salt
But whatever
You do don’t
Turn around
On your way back
To your car
To take one
Last look
Lest you too
Be turned
Into one
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