I wonder if it happens to you, M.
I wonder what would have happened if you’d have taken that train with me to Montauk.
We were better off getting drunk outside Tompkins square park in the good loving sun of July. Those boots you put on were the Pallisadoes. They should have been your birthright. Boots for feet. Whose were they? You were in flip flops and a short black skirt when I picked you up, and three gin and tonics later you were circling the column in those long brown that covered your sweet best.
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