After sun ..

Not after dusk

nor after dark

nor snarky side

orders from snarky

boss: just 

evening sun, newspaperly 

free – thank God for the

hood of the

neighbours around:

so sound and

so round 

about this strange place

in a race to the top,

or a fearful drop.

And the evening does ring

and sing its song 

gently.  And I do find I miss

you, in this city of

thousands of good 

souls and good men

and sad stories 

be t-


And the women who

stride the streets with

their gumption and

the lives that demand our

fullest attention; and

the sites I situate in

locations many do make

me finally believe in

your canny ways of seeing

and doing me naturally,

as I am, and

always was.

I never did have to

practise this

fully.  And what a 


prise this pulls out from

my thoughts.  And

what a reality we’ve wrought,

in such weirdly beloved ways.

So tell me, if poss, is it all true –

or still



[s]ingly me?

Really not you?

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