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Drip

Drip

lights are

still up

blinking

on boxes

lined in

a row

and last

night

they were

blurry

like a Monet

wipers like

brushes

dabbing

and dipping

framed

in the shield

the movie

just watched

like the single

cup of cappuccino

drunk

like the smallness

of the shelf

they built

at the bookstore

for Frost

and other

dead poets

like the song

Chesney sings

to me

and me

alone

like the

street

dressed

in sequins

the lamps

like sticks

in silver

holders

standing

apart

the wax

warm

and willing

to bend

a bit

before

it hardens

on the

table

TL

Published inTamiko Lowery