Applauding youths laughed with young prostitutes
And watched her perfect, half-clothed body sway;
Her voice was like the sound of blended flutes
Blown by black players upon a picnic day.
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Wikipedia Says...It is one of his best poems... And I feel the same He felt with his race With his girl friends Why they sell them selves... He was real poet...Honest Never a play boy
Sometimes blinding ourselves to what we do to survive is the only way to keep going another day