Late
(3, after Edward Hopper)
You know it’s late
The way a place looks
When you come the other way.
You can never quite wipe
The fog from your eyes,
Indict the right failure.
It’s a little like finding
Your pulse fast asleep, soon.
Then, you remember your hands.
How they spoke fondly
Of the place they left.
How they will feel the next time
They leave for a long spell.
Page(s) 130
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