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Nov 2016
carbon dust and asphalt

cruel sun and trash

acid breeze is smoky

crumpled bits of cash



cardboard in his fingers

black from vanished soap

he thinks of different times

and evil torment hope



the linen was so soft

she was flowers in the air

on damp concrete he dreams

of wind in her hair
Keith Grubb
Written by
Keith Grubb
248
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