it ought to be, a click.
the tap, the one silence and we know
what the other must say, so I slip off
like Grace, like Doris, like any
and offer a dance. Head waggle,
fine. Avarice of the good times.
A mixture of darks & lights in a cold wash cycle. True stories and true stories posing as fiction. Hope they don't bleed together and then shrink.
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