Blue Winged River Birds
Down by the river, we always washed our clothes together.
Slapping gray collars against the cool black stones.
Having willowy discussions about what's wrong with the world.
When it came to politics, we'd stab each other with sticks.
Now I do my laundry alone.
Humming to the huckleberry heat.
Even that blue-winged river bird
wants nothing more to do with me.
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