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a burnt letter

i found a burnt letter by the river today
about the time they met
and the bridges they saw in the city that will drown
that had linen hung by every window to dry
just like the little flowerpots of springtime façades

the corner that they hid in, seeing
the boats by the canals, carrying amazon.com delivery
preserving the wild city
formed completely of stairwells

the secret pathways to golden, romantic
era architectures,
tiny streets towards unseasonable beaches,
the relaxing strangeness,
the handwritten menus, the soft towels,
the warm showers, the tiny kitchens -
the very details of intimate acquaintance -

burned
strewn by the side of the river
delicate monochromatic singed paper
with tiny handwriting in black ink
burnt.

fuck this nonsense, they must have said
fuck the details.


there is no contradiction between being
poetic.
and
ugly.

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