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Pure

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

men in the afternoon

Slow slow slow

walk with me, listen to me talk about thebes, fathers and tiresias. help me when i am frail, guide me when i am blind.

when the day is oppressively hot, and the seconds slow to minutes, and the minutes to the bus stop are hours, hear my image, breathing laboriously, movements like moving through treacle. I'll come to a stop on the bench, on the chair, on the kerb, on the floor. if i hear a click i won't move, by the time i turn to see the click will have gone.

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