MIND THE SUITOR
Eventide again; the man is
kissing the clouds, the dark'ning
sky lowers, with some yellow and
some orange seeping out. Intense.
-
I want to stand back from the moment
I see, but cannot. The edge is too close
and this precipice, I've been told, has
landed many bodies over it before.
-
Street noise, and traffic doom; some
girls are off to a show; they look
like capers in a recipe of doubt.
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