dcmarti1 Posted December 13, 2014 Share Posted December 13, 2014 Despite an open window, a fire escape,and a peopled city on a summer night,the city would pause, as if in silence,as if it held its collective breath,while we screamed in the exploration of our not-yet-thirty bodies.Some jazz staccato, impious and unholy,would ultimately breach the shadowed quiet,but not until we climaxed; but not until wehad spent the fluid currency ofour love's most ill-fated commerce and of our not-yet-thirty bodies.Never enough alcohol for youand never enough of you for me,more than the Potomac separated us,more than the full or empty journalswe guessed would be ours: patience was no part of our not-yet-thirty bodies. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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