Sunny AfternoonAdam Fieled
Wicker Park coffee bar: I’m stirred, ill-starred, I sit surrounded. Bounds the deer, straight into a headlight: two, bright. I hang on one more cup, rapping to a sylph that hovers above: save me from this squeeze, tracks on my knee. She stirs me more. I spoon #2 better, who’s on a cell phone date even as we speak: talk to me. Please.
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