do-wager

White cheese curds melt in the
black bold coffee that turns
cold, contained by the American glass
made in Brazil and bought downtown as
well as the floral fabric of the handmade dress.
In the air they impatiently move –
swollen mauve diabetic feet
the dusty hazel marbles in a slant
watch, haughty nose sniffs in tease.
Not knowing is her tempest
almost like playing by the ocean when you’re far sighted
squalid and unsure of
the tide. For how long –

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