Don't Give Me Flowers

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For my fiftieth I want wire cutters.
I'll flee blank-faced London crowds,
cut through constraining fences
paddle in forbidden streams.

I want a heavy hammer
to flatten my vacuum cleaner,
I'll leave cast off clothes, outdated papers
to copulate in haphazard heaps.

I want sharp scissors
To rip strips from my sensible skirts,
Hoist them as rebellious flags,
proclaim myself a free woman.




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Infinite Improbability Drive

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