but with
shoes that didn’t fit. walking the river
the man
running his hands through his hair for the
last
time. i was sitting on the clothes line singing
the
songs that only lovers hear because
they
wake up later than everyone else
roll
over
kiss
bite lip
like
sticking your
tongue
into the end of a d battery like we
used to
do to see who was the better boy of us.
the city
is flat so people are leaves rolling
along on
their bicycles tumbling forward in
orchard
light eyes still buzzing with summer’s
honey
be— do rae mi follow the thought
of you:
it reminds me of the feathers laying in
these
paths i take, of the way people
close
their eyes while saying something
they
really mean; maybe
part of
us can’t bare to see
when
love pours out of the holes
in our
bodies like sap rising at
spring’s
light in a coy smile, or from
the hand
tracing the lines
of our
face like for the first time
every
time
is new
the way
we rise in ourselves to
greet
one another like the day
welling
out of the earth’s heart
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