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About This Poem
MOONLIT NIGHT
MOONLIT NIGHT
The city
Tar-top roof
With a brick-few, short wall
And then – central
This little, round, beat up old table
Cheap wine bottle atop
Empty
Two plastic cups
Two bent folding chairs
Assorted junk everywhere
Our lovers long gone
And so their western song
The Moon?
Oh just the same
Lingers on
City fumes too
Red neck rendezvous
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