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{door no. 23} poetry of 2025: the ghost of drowning nostalgia
a quick pitstop
a cigarette in the back
of your jeans pocket
i grab my bag from the car
while you lean on your door
will you stop? yeah will you?
a quick glance
across the crowded room
your hand so in reach
you don’t know what i’d love
to do every single time
wish we could just take the car
and drive to wherever it takes us
cow,