Possible worlds
In the grass
blades of aluminium
discarded,
on wet tarmac
your beloved face
discarded;
all in the swinging moment
of a smoking diesel engine.
The softest stomach now slick and sticky;
the kindest eyes weaken quickly.
My hands are holding your head;
your hand is shaking my shoulder.
And beneath us,
into the absorbent sheet of earth,
possible worlds are
discarded.
In the grass
blades of aluminium
discarded,
on wet tarmac
your beloved face
discarded;
all in the swinging moment
of a smoking diesel engine.
The softest stomach now slick and sticky;
the kindest eyes weaken quickly.
My hands are holding your head;
your hand is shaking my shoulder.
And beneath us,
into the absorbent sheet of earth,
possible worlds are
discarded.
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