|
Pull
yourself up by the iron railing
and
step onto the train.
Leave soft dirt,
gravel
dust, cracked tar.
You think the town
might
disappear after strike down.
Rain streaks
the
window.
You leave nothing.
His soda
fountain
water eyes, staring past you
as
you kissed his cheek, are staring
still.
Like forgotten smoke or fever dreams
a
faint scent of opium clings to your skin.
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