this small rain in endless fields
this afternoon like breaking glass
like slow desperation or the
stuttering movement from
stop sign to stop sign
no music
no painting no belief in
anything but these objects i
can hold or throw away
or a smile
a gesture
my naked body against yours
in a stranger's room at the
end of everything and then the
luminous weight of salvation
this idea that whatever
we have will be lost
the simple fucking joy
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