Nothing rhapsodic
at this late flowers
but why do we recall
so little when we
get back here
where it’s clear
we occupy at least
two beautiful spaces
one with and one
without time or reason
how is the one
more or less imagined
by the other would
take us farther
down the Ister
than a Friday’s
meant to stray
but then you’d find
a way to do it
anyway.
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