A Pale River

We sat at the deli, near a pale river

The cold winter wind whittling at our bones

Blowing leaves and our thoughts along

Holding a mug in her two nimble hands

Eyes watering from the steam

Or something other?

A cloud hangs over us two,

Summer girls in the winter time

 

Her smile seems to awaken the town

Their heavy slumber reduced to

Croaky throats and dark eyes

She stays the same

My friend, her uneven smile and dusty freckles

Her fuschia nails

Our secrets whisper through under-the-table kicks

 

Teen-girl bored throughout the day,

We are hiding under tendrils of hate

She is more than the snow on the ground and the barren trees

Yet who knows, but me?

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