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Rh I will not have a single person slighted or left away, The kept-woman, sponger, thief, are hereby invited, The heavy-lipped slave is invited—the venerealee is
 * invited,

There shall be no difference between them and the
 * rest.

This is the press of a bashful hand—this is the float
 * and odor of hair,

This is the touch of my lips to yours—this is the
 * murmur of yearning,

This is the far-off depth and height reflecting my
 * own face,

This is the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet
 * again.

Do you guess I have some intricate purpose? Well, I have—for the Fourth Month showers have,
 * and the mica on the side of a rock has.

Do you take it I would astonish? Does the daylight astonish? Does the early redstart,
 * twittering through the woods?

Do I astonish more than they?

This hour I tell things in confidence, I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you. Who goes there! hankering, gross, mystical, nude? How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat?

What is a man anyhow? What am I? What are
 * you?