last night in a salty purl of fog
I stood by the café by the bank
and smelled
the magnolias
by the reservoir.
a pimple of water
stood on the table
to recall the demitasse.
those hours passed
and the fog sucked slowly
down the blue bank.
the river fell out to the sea,
and a puddle in the fog
held the prints of my shoes
until morning.
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