Lights are
ecstatic explosions
lights
turn on with soft blinks
And rain so hard
it makes muddy
flesh wounds
in the earth
And us,
telling stories
impassionate as
furniture listings
on Craigslist.
Turning,
running
gone.
_
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I know when that note sounds and I feel touched everywhere that anything could happen… anything bad unbothered, not hiding its shape it is...
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