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The Morning After
by Joel Spencer
You stand there with your feet flat planted on cool cement,
Waiting.
Like you're looking for some kind of key.
The full shift of day-space
The lost hair found,
Stretched between two
Pinched fingers.
We always need to stretch it out,
Check
Its diameter the width of a blink.
A handful of minutes
Scattered beyond re-ordering,
Like so many dice
In some drunk's memory.
You go, resting your smile
Against me.
"The Morning After" is copyright © 2000 by Joel Spencer. All Rights Reserved.
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