"By the fumes of the yellow and green. Next to my darling."
You come through to me.
In flashes of lost pictures and semantics.
Through old friends and crowded, morning bakeries.
On stoops with shared sandwiches
and humid garden strolls.
Through Biblical boys with pants, strategically cuffed.
Through cats that sound like Ladykillers.
"Suburban dogs are in love with their chains."
Juleps and jeweled lips.
Nurtured and nurturing.
Hot anticipation.
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