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Love grows between seasons of grief and respite like the barren land drinking in courage from the rains
Late night coffee shop buzzed on caffeine,
in tune with the buzz of electric appliances,
acutely aware of the young child sound asleep
on the arm sleeve of the man's coat
wrapped around him in ways that
his mother's arms are not,
her arms holding papers
like a poker hand,
the intonation of her Spanish by phone
easily understood as a night at the office,
telemarketing, swaying the buyer,
as Mr. Sleepyhead, opens bright eyes
wobblyturns to me to
feel out the audience.

— The End —