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Alley Queens.

Write me the night. She
loves and fears the secrets
-folded into deep alley shadows

Her fear is born
of knowing what she
calls home. She
has been among them.

Her knowing has longing. She
feels the long fingers of my own fears.
And I write her the night
-because I love her under orange lights.
In alley shadows.



Posted 01/05/15
Written while sitting on a bench on Third avenue watching the crackheads crackin.
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