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Monday, February 24, 2014

Grass

Grass

Green grass
breaks up
concrete

A bird sings,
then
silence

It is cold
but the signs of spring
glare all around

Another night,
a cigarette,
lost words

The doors
closed.
Skin too tight.

My blood
sings
to nobody.

When
will you come
on your
steed

and sing to me?

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