If I opened for you
a flower in bloom
your eyes only glance
glaze, and covered
quickly underwhelming
sensory information

It’s not the season just yet

The next one
Around the corner
& tucked behind the shop on
twenty-fifth avenue

That’s the place we went

it wasn’t snowing then
All frostbite and slipped discs
Having teeth installed on our shoes
Stabbing back against the bitter
Stomping proudly
Taking back ground

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