for Scott, with whom I shall grow old
Traipsing through puddles
with you down Cockburn to Waverly station
in my Peter Pan hat in the rain,
holding hands so I don’t get pummeled
by a minibus will bring back memories
someday of us when we were young in love,
when I polished my ring persistently
and spoke with an accent
wore funny hats and caressed cashmere.
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
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