“The rain is falling like torpedoes
and the people are running collecting puddles
in their back pockets,
laughing all the way.
How many times can you write a poem about
the same city? The walls are growing
thin and I can hear the whispers of people falling
in and out of love through the foundation of
A train moves underneath my feet
and the wind kisses my thighs
like a lover.
I think there are tornado warnings every time
I think of you.
There’s some sort of saying that tells us that romantics
wear their hearts on their sleeves.
But there are only two stars bright enough
to outshine the fluorescence,
and I’ve met so many people
wearing them like nooses
around their necks.”
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