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You could be my teacher
and wipe clean the palimpsest of these streets as you would a blackboard
in the shape of my heart

twisting and moulding me as you fire clay
sip coffee – steam your brow you know
a twinkle could be a fancy or you could be at rest
legs crossed in the chair and not observing
these trees twisting slowly to the ground
weep weep back to the earth
the purple brown orange green and burnt brown leaves
but you haven’t seen the cacophony
or if you have you haven’t said nor added to

but fuzzy ginger bob you can shape my heart