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Poem: Any Old Day

Across the table

We take our hands together—

For no one knows the hour or the day.

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Still, a summer morning gathers strength due west.

Here is our desert city, tied to a crane-necked lover

Whose shut eyes twitch with visions of the good life.

This Las Vegas, her blue angel in the bone yard;

Veiled tranquil gaze, no longer in need

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Of rehearsal. Svelte mastery,

Like a shadow cast by momentum,

May be found leaning against faded ironworks,

Venerated plaster, chips of paint.

Outside we sit in sight of towering reflecting pools,

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Like magnifying glass. We don’t wait for fires

To catch, but interlace fingers and ask—

How will we answer

The relentless bribe

Offered us today?