chirps, moans, whistles
I open my mouth and a sound comes out
Saturday, August 2, 2008
for a city with a box score
of too many box stores
a foot-bridge, too outspoken
over the river with a too-white sail
alarmingly high fin
(which is, as you say,
when people are hungry, a waste)
how can I explain to you
the soaring of my love
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