Sunday, 20 January 2013

5

A chimera. The leaning in for a kiss. Unable to transcend what comes to a point at the corners of memory. Immured in a cutting-room of the past. You rode your bike through the labyrinth of condominiums on Summerfield Crescent. I had never seen you before. I don't see you now. Nothing but a form on a bike and the remembered excitement, a moribund impostor of feeling.

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