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[nutmeg_poet]

Solitary

The night takes of its cotton shirt
of silent clouds and rustling wings.
There’s nothing left in me that sings
except this morning’s coffee. Dirt

and acid tumble in my chest.
I still remember Adam’s eyes;
He liked The Lonesome Crowded West.
Every day the music dies

into my gaping mouth again.
The words are needlesharp, bloodsweet.
A t-shirt: Hey, you found a friend.
Cars go by in the street.