on the front stoop
to vomit poetry all over the sidewalk--
all over the front lawn
discreetly using your skirt to clean up the mess
incident retrieved from memory where
we accidently touched
for a moment -- or two
before dashing headlong into oncoming traffic
gone now--
not even our shadows dancing
in the noonday sun
to keep me company
only the stained planks of wood
stretching across the warped framed porch
the grain running long ways
broken only by creeping-in plant life
a dark wet world residing underneath
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