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I sang to him

almost the bronze goddess,
pushed the great
double doors away from
the music and madness of
the Mandarin Oriental ballroom
searching for silence,
train of chiffon and silk
running its threads,
green like Russian serpentine
over the magnificent shòu
on the lobby,
gold on marble
it felt like good luck,
at the time…

stood at the parking lot
under the raven-black sky
pierced by fireworks
and ignited by wine

while he, on the other
end of the line
parked on the shoulder
of some freeway
en route to work
at sunrise,
blinkers blinking
perhaps with eyes closed

because the song
had been stuck in my head
for days and,
wanting to be intimate
with my thoughts, he
asked to hear the melody
that possessed me

“Street Wedding Kiss”
by photographer Manuel Orero


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