late night trek through the back streets and wood lots
my breath is metered in foot-fall syllables.
heart pounding
ragged smile
I'll never not love this
The streets are empty
the air is cool,
heavy with lilac, crab apple and birch pollen
trees in rut,
lusty
shouting tawdry, hymenopteric "come hithers"
their perfumes are deafening.
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