Farwell Marilyn
Farewell Marilyn
Frost on the window, I scratch a face on ice,
that looks like Marilyn Monroe. And the sun
has no power but lit her face, a golden goddess
she is; we see each other for hours before
she begins to fade, streaks of sorrow, but what
can I do, it’s high tide and my ship is about
to set sail for an unknown destination
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