August 7, 2020
Until I Can’t Feel You Anymore
By Luke Samra
From that balcony, live blues boogie
Through fleur-de-lis railing
Crows feet parentheses round my cheeks
Hurdle toll gates
Corn on every corner is ever blonde
Morning Star has turned leaves and fields into a self portrait
Weathervane points to where we vacationed
Her hair ruffles like grape leaves ruffled in coastal breeze
If I could smoke a bonfire, I would.
I play my electric until my fingers
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