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Remember those cruel months?
Remember when I found you my dear fawn?
Remember those cruel months fed from ages;
how we danced those months eyeless.
How we first felt when we were shy.
Reserved out on the eyebrow of the forest,
your laughter on the tattered gazebo floor,
karma, the drooling grapes of wonderlust,
of mystery in bed with purpose?
Remember when the band would play F major, K332, just for the two of us,
and when we couldnt get free from the brambles of boredom,
how we would watch the log trucks pass, smelling their oil and chewing their saw dust?
We dreamt of our escape under those intervals by the melodies of sweet beat woodsman and wolfdogs...
starved of your laughter
i would fall from clumsy barstool knees to faceless floors out of arcane tarpit desperation
Hugo make me a boy so we can escape as brothers.
poem
by
Jerome Moore
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