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in glistening trees and
seas of gutters swelling.
Where is the night and the long
street weaving?
Where I would sit in cafe windows waiting
for my lonesome love to come toward
me swaying.
In rooms I've sat for hours. Wallowing
in rain. I've walked alone within
the winding
of rain, and of cars, and of sad
girls weeping
alone. On the road when bars close,
wanting
the almost willowing girls
with lost thoughts wishing
the night's only long thought
whisking them
out from neon red signs and out
from under seas of rain.
By rain and signs of rain I have
wandered and waited.
My eyes, on lines of streets
have woven and wondered.
My heart was left in beds, rain
drenched and whistled.
Just as rain has been my tears
, some wet fresh wish
kisses leaves, kisses the flood
wet heart , tastes the whisper
of rain on the long street's
breath, woos
the willing angels down, mud weaned,
water
weary, wet winged, reckless.
Mike Sullivan,'88
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