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THIRTY FIRST OF MARCH

At this seaside café it's you I adore. I've come to talk, you withdraw. Silent conversation with Friday Drifts aweigh. On my corrugated forehead I hear a tick A stick running quick In anticipation of a phrase… You walk off, my eyes swing sideways. Carnival lights up a gaping clown. Midnight, I wear April Fool's crown. Frank Corso




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