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Collected Poetry
(rd king dot net)poetry and digital art
Diesel Eddy
Book three of impromptu trilogy.
In Our Hearts
As we wandered among the leggy shore birds there was little doubt in our racing hearts they would insist we were too unsuspecting— as if anticipating our desires as mistakes of little interest. Just out of reach boats drifted by. We longed for them, or, dreamed of peeling off wet suits between parked cars—we could not imagine it otherwise: at the sandy edge of the parking lot a one-winged angel lingers. I stop and open the car door; it's unnerving—but the music sounds especially like our music. I smile. You greet me. The truck passes that carries our effluent to some nameless pond. We think: good-bye to this. back | ToC | next » 6:
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