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keith's poems
Wednesday, 7 May 2003
Homecoming

Familiar streets call out her name
and summon back the cold dead nights
of flame-black spoons and cheerless men
who paid for half an hour's relief.

The man whose arm she leans upon
and girl whose hand she tightly holds
know just the shiver, barely felt,
acknowledging a desperate youth.

Posted by Anna Belle at 10:59 PM EDT
Updated: Saturday, 7 June 2003 9:49 PM EDT
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