The hissing of something never found NaPoWriMo

Down in the zoneI went looking for hopeful;cheap romanceon the scuffle in jeans, lace along seams In the parking lotVirtue was a beggar, outside the cocktail hourin Paris. You read books; artists in poverty,looking, longing. Nothing on either side of the street. Never mine.

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I CAME TO THE CITY, PART 7; THE HISSING IN THE SUMMER

  Summer as the city slips into slumber, after last night’s thunder, as skin slides from winter’s shawls and shackles and pitches itself proudly in parks where not even dogs bark, where shadows have sunk into sweaty soil as feverish fingers smooth skin with soothing oil. Summer in the city and temperatures are oozing over […]

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