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Fire Exit

Half between five and six, I was on that same old stairway, adoring your air. You were standing against kettle people. You were waiting for the next rocket bus. You were radio-free and mob-less, as usual. Half between six and seven, I strummed my frustrating romances, adoring your air, though you’ll be far, always. Ca. 2006

Copyright © | Year Posted 2013




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things