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My space-husband is     devoid of features,
                save for his Adam’s apple he lets me use
                               as a chew toy–sometimes, for other things

he says he likes the cheap perfume I wear–the discontinued one,
              You know       the one that smells like Jolly Ranchers
    I wear it to reaffirm my virginity                                        since most mid-to-late
20-something’s wear     the afterbirth of coitus, like soap

       he called my _______ micro-soft         nicknamed it Click

“Y2K” was our safe word
                    he tattoos a sigil for getting lost (in my skin)
to beam him home, since         my body is only     temporarily      his

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