A Heart and a Half

Out by the park, I say, I’ve got your blood in me, and you look at me funny, like you are waiting for this to be another mediocre joke, and it is, somehow, but I don’t know the punchline yet. We’re walking when I say this. It’s winter-solstice-cold, but we’re still young, like we’ve always been, horribly, blasphemously young, young enough that we shouldn’t feel these broke-body aches, not yet, not here, in this city, on your birthday.

The rest…

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