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Apr 2020
Lights, marquees,
  3.5 million people
unpleasant smog, glass buildings
twinkle like night stars.

Cigarette smoke
  gin on the rocks
a lone over aged woman sings in the night
dry exhausted lips, underpaid dress

what is there to love
   when you let yourself go
      and now sit alone. . .
A Poet
Written by
A Poet  The Moon
(The Moon)   
48
 
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