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Digging Ditches

We're all a mess,
Migrating towards the same cold spot.
I remember you through summer eyes,
Touching toes and tickling noses.
Yellow is the color of memory,
Shining bright in our die hard need to stay present.
What angles of the mind,
Tricks of the cerebellum.
Saw you on the swing of the pendulum
When we cared what we cared about.
Fits and starts and coughs and kisses.
Probing the mystery is all that's left.
Digging ditches in the Spanish squalor of rusted tin,
Instead of drinking coffee in the cafés of Berlin.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




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