I spoke to The Master late
last night, she told me a story
of Pittsburgh;

the strange dark that fell
covering, the next scene after
Adam and Eve. There are birds
in these hills, ready

to flee the cold of October.
I wanted to kiss her, crawling
through cracks below
the open window, through the first time

we met. “Anyway
there is an equation of dancing and sex”
“Ever since I can remember,”
was my reply.

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