2389
7.196
17.vii.26
purring
/ dorombolni
the city is
a scratch under the chin
it catches
seasonal thing
winter steam
fan for the heat
there is the purr of conversation
we talk in our sleep
streetcar clang
the footpath breathing
old refrains
the city’s snoring
some would say
nothing like a chorus
it’s all these hearts
all they can hold
there’s never the full confession
we’re dreaming of elsewhere
dreaming to be here
it’s time out of mind tells out
as you beside me
purring now
we each beside ourselves
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