
Less lonely, less . . .
I gave you
a tiny box.
You lifted the lid,
praised
the usefulness
of my gift:
a silver pin shaped
like an amper-
sand. As you fastened it
to your lapel,
I thought again of
that motel
outside of Chicago.
¿Te acuerdas?
I sat on the edge
of a bench,
untied my shoes.
Face down, eyes shut,
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