Wednesday, April 13, 2005


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never question the reason
I question where you
were last night

sand does not carry
the truth of footprints;
the wind rearranges
every grain as if
you never left my side
(that's the riddle, really)


I need to know if
you loved me
as a child
as a man
as an old stranger

if anything
ever mattered
as much to you
as much as it
mattered to me

repeated words become
hollow (it isn’t what
you say but how
you say it)

all that is left
between us is how you
answer the question


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