Burlington was because you were gone stubbornly beating. I crested the lake dead. Before too.
But then it was my first Albany. Heat beat a sharing the bench. Your funeral, my life.
Waiting is subtraction. Coming away with my back. Her and you.
My voice broke looking wasn't love only. Even now. Sunlight turns.
The room filled with architects for door. Chickens push the roiling sky. It might as well be said.
Rain obscures route. Waiting for Jesus is feeding cats bread. That saint rubs his thumb on my eyes.
Don't think I care about quantity. Other words I cared enough to write.
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