sunday light
drunken mirages below
14th and she is corralled in her
own streets
misbehaves
like a vaulted hellion before the city
meets a hurricane again
tonight there will be rain in these
streets and
she runs her tongue against the
smooth aluminum rind of a beercan
she doesn't know me enough to
keep me anywhere in mind
the thought of my name summons
jingles and loops
i imagine her so defended against
the barest approach of my humble
memory i could be an allergic mishap or the
weather eighteen days ago
summaries of this night and others exist
somewhere
scrawled in a two word note
tumbled in pocket with keys and disinterested
nicorette and 54 cents wrapped
tight in a pointless receipt like a
lover on the
next to last
day
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