or..."from one slut to another"

Feathered skelitons at the
end of bird tracks and
my tracks to your shore
where white waves
anger at the pollution sign:
your label-
you're a slut like me.

Lady, you could drown
Chicago at a whim but
instead
laid back and let them
spill into you until
you couldn't tell yours
from theirs, anymore.

You can no longer sustain life
so join me, mother
in the contrary.

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