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tables full of home
decorated as such
a then within
a chrome coming
under parched archway

the same there
bent and waiting
where ones of
doubting hand
miss the meaning
of it all and sit
blind as bland
would have it

a sound in the hallway
scouring a hole'
the floor comes through
to tender a lifeless dance
as an opening away

a blanket fitting those
that pour it so
to the brim
as if the whole earth
will be lifted
and the sun will rise
a bit closer to
the shadow of the house
and the noise of
its silent hum
unmentioned are the olive walls as art
or the lively placements
of shadow at the *** of a touch
in the dwindled slight of nodding

a throat explained as pinging light
inside the glossy whistling
that shuts out all that is listened for

a set of windows where out of you
comes a knock that daybreak insists
but doesn't move with
until you do
less is
more
more
or less
lean waitresses emerge
throwing darts and
mumbling memories

as a hint of amber light
leads us to walls splattered
with hollow gyrations

we drink until pitch black
in what is left of the
wasted piano night

a door out of key
a key out of time
as laughter subsides
and what is left
edges closer
a cat
all over
the roof tops

cutting through
neon

gaps
the rain

leaves
midnight

a cat
warm together
deep inside our cove
we become a shape
in the home of the soul
waves repeating
deep in the bone
warmth of the touch
that makes it so
joe machetto Jan 12
he wanted her
to fill a space
inside his soul
with the curl
of her smile

to feel eternity
from inside
her eyes
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