Monday, May. 12, 2003
under the conservative facade
It is dry and clear.
It is four thirty in the afternoon.
We stand on the sidewalk, in a strip mall.
Under the conservative facade,
there is amber light falling from the west,
and you and I stumble,
with being alone.
You lean in
and kiss me,
soft.
There is no abstraction and
for a moment
I don't have to be sure.
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The Comb Tree42.316833,-72.656553
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