If she dreams
of a stranger,
does he become
more than someone
she nods at
on an El train
before noon?
The Loop
is stranger
than she remembered
last time—that heat
wave in October.
A loner
at peace. Bruises
she conceals
from herself
only ache
when she lies.
love that ending line
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Thanks, Dhyan. I kind of built the whole poem around that line.
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well, that’s a wonderful thing to do
+
it could really also stand as a poem itself
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