hit the ground heavy,
this soft gentle leaf
the sky is getting a little lighter now
failing slowly.
a weightless lift of nothingness
Notting Hill and the Hugh,
Grants are gone
and pretty blocks stand straight,
Motorcycles pass this
little Venice .
theres no one wearing masks but me – and
the end is horrid so I quickly put it out
numbness of the knees,
needs and please.
a hello and a how are you
the bags are full –
a real weight now.
the weigh in like a pendulum
backwards and forwards yet not going anywhere
the private and secure
come closer and feel me
i can feel you
the water is drying now
but not quite a drout.
the sweeping removes all traces


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