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a stream from spout of wall, falling all to pool ‘neath/’bove the cement

a stream
from spout
of wall,
falling all
to pool
‘neath/
‘bove the
cement
seat
where all sit, and
in the ‘flections, see
i a one
how open her eyes,
so green
in the clear
of stream/ and
we, in instance,
kiss
as she stays
still for
my reachings in and
we elope ‘fore we keep
eyes from anywhere
else.

all of life is a charade
I believe, wholeheartedly, the writer is but a makeshift way to live

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