Boatman's Elegy
her hand cold with the death of romance
obligatory touch
we watched it erode like a mountain chipped away by cheap winds
irretrievably sad
but still the flowers roll out, the cards keep coming
the quick peck kisses and morning goodbyes
the syringe shooting shared history into nostalgic veins
as dark radio rains throw branches against our chopin windowpanes
forever stuck in this merry mad dog affair
nightfall- sleep cascades death valley summer selling brooklyn bridge coffins that could fill mystery oceans in the space that lay between us
in this long forgotten sunken ship bed
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