there are sands somewhere.
there are deserts i’ve never been to.
there are sand hills.
i used to run up and down them
back in school
in a park
made of sand.
conjured desert,
amicable love me,
love you
somebody ask me
do i want dirt in my fingerprints,
oil and blood and ink and
do i want them sterile
windswept
bludgeoned perfect?
I feel something
similar
nancy,
you black lassie.
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