Sunday, November 9, 2014



you set me down my 90 lb below the aspen
my green skirt crumples yellow leaves you take
my chin look me in the eye and just as i
unshy myself you close
yours, forever, and was it a dream?
was it my usual, poor interpretation?
did wires cross like my arms
behind my back when you
pushed against the
kitchen counter?
under a tree you said for
ten minutes and its the same as
three cups of coffee to the brain
you were my seven soy lattes eight
peeling sycamores and
that single sucker gut

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