Friday, January 15, 2010

French kiss in a river of neon
subway tongues dirty as two pigeons
belts tense with hands in the hooks
feet twisted by movements of strangers

if we don't get each other out of
here, our eyes will drown
to death in each other
beneath the climate-control
canopies, dear.

Someone tripped over a dollar
& into a feather cut. No more
mating plumage.

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