party dress in the mist
trees jet black white under fading street lighting
kiss your soft damp hair. my first ‘girlfriend’ (“I hate that
word”)
early morning cars stumble gears
the fifth creature, from its observation platform, reports a
species of seafaring bee. They navigate the billows, bzzzzzzzing for foghorns
you have taken off your party dress
you hang it on a clotheshorse to dry
warm in bed
day develops, sun comes out, time begins
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