A Brief Encounter

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And the words erupted
like flowers, your marvelous
array of oceans opening you
to my fervor. I’m excited
for the trees to catch fire,
aroma of lavender thrust
into a hulking cauldron.
Somebody wants to feel
special and the other is just
along for kicks. We’ve
neverthless mastered,
to withering degrees,
the art of navigation.
I hope you’re prepared
to not walk for a week
after the things I’m going
to do to you, and the pink
sun drifting aimlessly into hope.

-r. miller

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