Stranger, dangling from hidden escapes,
Mistakes, understanding. Hairs of vibrating
Reality. Sometimes, I can feel it. The night
Nice with adolescent inhibitions. Your
Sicilian hair is vibrating reality, lip syncing
Undiscovered cerebral caverns and the ex-
tremes of possibility. Magazine eyes. Twis-
ted dollar bill in your black shirt pocket,
Gulping. In the original plan we were both
All strangers and none strangers at the exact same
Time. Breezed away down the hill like an old sea
Hat, taken away by round-waisted newness.
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