LOST MIDIAN AT THE
HYDRANGEA BUSH
And ain't nothing coming back, no,
no, never again. The sort of phrase
a wounded loser says, after a really
large hurt. I can corral the glimmer
of all your hopes in my heartfelt
hands. I am not needy, just the source
of your needs in particular. Begrudge
me not that : Brooklyn has abandoned
places, once worth 12-hundred now
worth 12-million. A real Mediterranean
jungle, for sure, with a lackadaisical
malaise to go along with it. Watch us
hang at corners - lattes and ice cream
and beer. It's never Winter here.
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