Six Seconds of Romance On Randolph Street
Curbside cartons serve dinner for eight,
steam rises up from a subway grate.
Bare hands numb in pockets of overcoats,
while spray paint dries on forgettable quotes.
Newspaper blankets, cardboard box dreams,
three-fingered gloves frayed at the seams.
Shopping cart wishes and .44 tears,
waiting for something all of these years.
She was outside the station, trembling and cold,
when he offered her his hand to hold.
Suddenly her face became flushed with the heat
of six seconds of romance on Randolph Street.
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