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Balcony, Early Summer


Wind from the West,

No,

Different,

A breeze, a perfume

You dropped on my sidewalk

At night —

Still hanging in the air

With the sun,

With the baking steel railing

Burning my forearms as

I rest forward staring at the

Light of the afternoon trellis

By the blanched brick backyard

Of a big city house

Across the street

And

I

Realize how good I’ve got

It.


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