she, dazed,
in a quiet winter
of nostalgia,
a patina of dust
over her memories -
on the crown of her head,
like a mold
or a lichen.
& she is
walking in a dream
where the streets bend
& the trees are bare
but for flocks of birds
staring her down.
there is music in her ears,
a white fuzz,
effervescent like peroxide.
behind her,
an ominous fleet of clouds
sails in.
she stumbles
& smiles vacantly
at the nothing
between buildings,
fixes her eyes
on another nothing,
the space between
two lovers
standing still
as though drowning
& unaware of it
the thud
inside of her.
(hummingbird -
suffers a heart attack -
drops to the ground)
give it a minute,
whispers one parked car
to another.
a lascivious, leathery breath
leaks from its windows -
it'll all come back to you
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