Much is accumulated though not in our honor.
I am tired of going. Maybe the only there
is the final there. It begins to look like sleep,
like the thankful lying down after the allnighter.
I dream a man sweeps me off my feet
and disappoints. Most nights we forget the argument
but not always.
February 16, 2007
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1 comment:
am getting those old wareham (or new wareham-leonard) chills... that sense of otherworldliness/peace one gets when one reads something one could not have expressed, and feels understood. viva la lou!
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