Take this letter I wrote
and run away with it
over streets
through backyards with big trees
and lawn chairs and white garages
jump the fences,
wooden and metal
or go through the gate
if you are feeling polite
read it in the evening,
when you can't run any further
and the sounds of dogs barking
rings in your ears
when the light is golden and electric
and there are cars on the streets.
Tear open the envelope;
the letter says I'm sorry.
I could never say that to your face.
Your eyes are too beautiful.
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