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Apr 2018
the speedphone in your head
sparky and light trailed,
as a dancer with closed steps
you open doors in the night;

sometimes a ghost, a lost thought,
your pages are torn and mixed, you're
burnt as a nut, a failed paperchase
of looseΒ Β clues, brillant and wild
running with the comets to dawn
Written by
Leslie Philibert  63/M/Germany
(63/M/Germany)   
181
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