i follow the line with my eyes to the part of the floor where the door jambs. i don't know where you're going. on the other side of the boards. where i hear the bare soles of your feet. scraping. and when i wait for the bus, later, with your hand next to mine on the morning concrete sidewalk. i want to howl and howl this slow driving loneliness gone. if we had time until. you'd wrap us up in bedsheets and palms.


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