Alone on a Tuesday.
Leftovers and a robe.
But something shivers on my neck and brings a glow,
so I light a fire.
A Coen song and a basket of oranges from an exotic place.
I love to peel them all the way down to the jewel.
I close my eyes and walk down to the river, barefoot.
Parts of me show that shouldn't,
like I'm somebody's laydee in waiting.
My body breathes a vapor and somewhere someone awakens and doesn't know why.
A shiver to the neck, a certain glow,
craving fruit and an urgency to peel something
all the way down to the jewel.
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