So today we walked in the sun
Beat the dawn with furious run
Threw off the belts of pride
Swam by the shore in the noon glow
Sat up on the beach as fire went low
Watched for deepening dusk
Sighed for breath by still night
Ached to weep in dark of sight
Touched the surface us
With the bright above here
And the shadows at our feet
Slipped into the water again.
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—
There is a peculiar moon which rises over
A starry city awash in an ozone blue
The monotonous lamps flicker across
The warped windshield streaking gold
As ominous blocks of concrete glide by
In haunts of gray and incinerated browns
Throwing radiant shadows off and around
The unkempt shrubs rampantly green
For the tar that is conveyed up and under
Reaches just as imperceptibly far as that sullen satellite away
And just as veiled yet present in black upon black.
And the ebbing glow of jaundiced age is resurrected upward
In perfect harmony with the creation below in white.
Slippery white paint, with concealed streaks of lifeless blood.
—
She could be pretty.
She could be pretty nice.
She could be pretty nice to me.
She could be pretty nice to me if she wanted to.
But she doesn’t want to be pretty.
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