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into this one

yesterday
the sunlight tasted
pepper cantaloupe
tho last night left me not
a drop of wine
grieving for a poem wrote
a month ago last Tuesday
– thought you here
but now I feel
you’re gone

the way of
summer shadows –
straight back ladder chairs
black and white
photographs of then
cool beneath my memory
touch to pause
the same

are pasted to a page
I never turned

. . .