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Selection 9 of
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Just beyond the sidewalk picket fence low and white, city traffic agitates the air; two coffees, cream and caffeine beans; we sit and talk. The wide umbrella foils an early evening sun. Buses honk, taxis dart... like crazy gnats seeking hollows of unwary ears. We sit and sip, and talk of yesterdays unfulfilled; of promises inert that lay like broken wings upon the worn asphalt. As silence falls upon our lips, we filter memories, dream tomorrows and our separate ways. On lonely nights and intervals we sit and talk here at the street cafe. I yearn to stay but want to leave and what of she? She drums her fingers; looks another way. Once lovers; strangers at this small cafe. Uncertainty enfolds; to let the failing flame expire or bear the pain of seeing her once more turn away. She doesn't know, just friends...we can never be. |
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Selection 9 of
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