THE
SOMNABULANT
SORT
I hear of you walking alone, and want
to be there. These are simple things,
but I guess, too, not to be. Assignations.
Meetings. And secret trysts. You know
how all that goes. 'People' will talk.
(Were we to walk).
-
And still I wonder; why do we make
all these categories, splitting a mankind
hunch into do's and don't's and things
to do or not. Oh, a burden like a
heavy coat when the weather
finally gets warm.
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