Strange Places
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Yesterday I waited for the day’s second last bus to barrel down Broadway and bring me closer to a place where you said, Our mission is to build beautiful light. You had to coax me out of the corner as we stared at one another through slits of light cast by the moon or perhaps the streetlamps; nobody could ever tell over the white noise of a dying conversation. If you want to go for the big money— (I’d like to live in the delicate part of your voice where every word thrives in immoral inflections) —you’ll have to kick in half. It was the only time I noticed your eyes were dark freckles swimming in a murk of blue so I had to shudder, then smile at my secret discovery. There were Others but we didn’t care and They wouldn’t look; When Nobody sees anything, it never happened, you tell me through clouds of cigarette smoke clinging to damp early morning air. Well that’s a shame since it was the greatest of fun trying to get in there when the tide was going out. Remember my kiss, it tastes like vanilla mint lip balm. I’ll remember the way we fell apart reaching for the door, past grey chances, and old dances— You take care of yourself, I’ve got enough to worry about. I need to learn to walk faster because I was left behind again.
© Caroline Cheng, 2008
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