I met you in skin and sun
and distant cicada sounds,
street jazz in the background.
met me where I was 
and made no promise to keep me.
you unrolled your tongue
and the palm of your hand holding your girlfriends’
tiny waist and a note that I’ve read,
god, a thousand times before,
but still cuts like the first fall 
that said
I know, but nothing hot lasts

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