Too secret to serious–

Twice, in the afourmentioned twofold for two-pence forward in fourword flirtations.

I eight all two fourmations. They were cubic delights.

Sixteen candles in mixed-teen scandals
Inflicts mean handles betwixt clean vandals

Sandals, tossed into the sand
Tangents of tangerines tended by hand
Landed in Leningrad
Stranded in sojourn
Abandoned by all of the candles I conjured

And thirty-two years to the day have now passed
And maybe I’ve found here my true place at last

Or maybe it’s just a new face that I’ve plastered
On all of those years that I never quite mastered