monday
under cloudless days we gesture at sober folk in parks turn fingers back around and i found a doo-rag on the ground the same one you used to wear in your hair and use to wipe your eyes in sad cinema and we, like all old good friends sit a bit now and then; close our hands around the past and how we met comes up and i swear it was you coming up to me in coffee shop with poem books under your arm and you say it was me in coffee shop staring at the book you were reading.
2004-06-27 | 12:16 p.m.
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