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Mar 2017
I buff the rear view mirror with my coat sleeve
Crowded steps
Shivering bridesmaids
A blur of white lace disappears inside
I slide along the back row
Old, familiar, burnished slick
She passes
Me to the aisle
Crisp scent of White Linen
The ***** quiets
I arch and crane
A glimpse
A profile wedged in memory
Then, a kiss to another
Collar up
I sidle away
Philip Lawrence
Written by
Philip Lawrence  New York
(New York)   
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