Sadie's running,
Maybe not towards
This end of history,
I can feel her lilt,
and that of a boy
I knew.
They're both victims of
Something I can't ascribe.
They're running,
It's a fix.
I hope they see things
that fill them with
eternity's
wings.
They/it/hier slips through the door behind a blurry eyed early morning customer and slides into a little wooden chair at the back of the...
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