Tuesday, June 02, 2009


A greeting under artificial light
Is like the evasion
Of a bed of fire

Like nights full of energy
That work with the shadows
Of public chambers

Desires in the dark
Hidden from the rays of light
Hidden from the morning

With the help
Of nicotine stained curtains
Empty bottles of water next to your lipstick
And the soothing sounds
Of an AM radio

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