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begin march

Don't say that you don't because you do.

Say that you won't all you will and yet still

I can sense the flight of the bird as she heads northward

a missive in her fragile-boned beak it reads, "Man is in love...and loves what vanishes."

Man is in love. Another has vanished yet remains, still, standing, mute - muette -

tongue-tied now, all-spoken out.

What words have I for you after so many said?

What goes left unsaid is sous-silence, yet should it be so?

One wants to shout. To head into the deep wood and shout the truth of it all -

all of the 'I love yous', all of those 'Forevers', all of those 'Nevers'

They never did last. There is no such thing as a happy ending, he wrote.

Yet has the end been reached? One prays not...

Green is the color of forever - you believe that.

But you have believed so many things, the court's fool - you -.

Silver-spoons honeyed sweet, a shared kiss, lean-to in the street,

a lasting moment before a flickering minstrel board of times somewhere deep in Grand Central;

you are there, in that moment, and though the train bears the name of your town

you know you are already home. 

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