summer swallowed us whole;
left long shadows on the faces of clocks,
& in the orchard windrows
a rustle of departing feet
the grapes grew old on the vine,
the unblossomed trellis trembled in the wind,
& time’s pinched lips
muttered names
in the calcified forms
of remembered questions
if you’re homeless don’t build one
if you wake alone stay alone,
read, roll cigarettes,
drag feet through leaves,
hear footsteps
& think of growing old.
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