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Uncertainty

He is loose change
in her pocket,
while his fingers
read her skin.

Their fugue voices
are counterpoint
with promises.
Their words
are bumper cars.
Reason speaks in tongues.

She becomes a darker
ghost
waiting…

She sits,
a woman alone
in a bus station,
one-way ticket
clutched in uncertain hands.

Fingers,
like lumbering
grey elephants,
dial his number.
Incorrectly.

She does not try.
Again.

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