across my cold quilt
a street lamp and moonlight
play shadow games
~~
gravestones with speakers
a tattered and torn screen
ruins of a drive-in
~~
thought I heard a bee
it was the tabby snoring
not even spring yet
~~
rained-on stone buddha
are you any the wiser
sitting in the mud
~~
dark and secluded
forest embraces the lost
never lets them go
~~~
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I Write Her 