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	Winter Locks (Summer Keys)
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Frozen hands in a turnstile
Gas cap stuck too tight
All the boxes and lines coming together like a dance
An amateur affection
Geometric orchestration

The chilling breeze of a snowdrift
The garbage can lids half covered in ice
Dead leaves stuck like tongues to a metal pole

Coming off in
p i e c e s

 . . .

Some lattice of bone
Swaying like a cage in the breeze
On a hook
Over the bay

Their shouts and circular cheers
On a merry-go-round at the pier
Sand in their shoes
They cannot stop smiling under layers of
Sunglasses and cotton candy

Her hair is a bit longer
Her teeth just as white
I can smell the salt there
The steady pulse of tides brushing the coast
Like steel wool

 . . .

I miss the chorus of bugs outside my window
On that bench on top of Vestal
With the mud at my soles
And the sky in a jar on my lap

Only the warm echoes in the swift wind, now
When will I remember this?