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Berry​/​Bar Conundrum

from Still Life by The New Warden

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August winds had wound me south. I kissed the outskirts of your town. Dreamed I ran my palm along your knee. Came to in a Greyhound bus at the mercy of geography. And the interstate rolled away. Through the haze and exhaust I filled my lungs and almost called your name. It felt foreign on my thick tongue and I knew that another chance had passed and I said nothing; sat silent like I’ve always done. I kept a drawer full of your letters. Buried each word like a treasure. Saw the mid-Atlantic fade away inside a rearview. Oh how I wish I was near you. Nothing ventured; nothing gained. Close to the vest, played safe. Sitting on my hands is just a sort of tradition.

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from Still Life, released June 27, 2012

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