i am just going to put this out there now
to make midnight blush
and turtle babies crack their way to the sea
here it is:
children puffing pollen air bound in spring, empty stem in hand
ice cream dripping down chins and thighs on hot summer nights
lovers making just that in public where only a few can see,
(i know i watch)
remembering paris beyond the architecture, art in the people
harlots with sad eyes lit red, with a glimmer of blue hope
end or beginning.
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