Those words take a walk appear again,
Their frequency causing him to wince
Down by the railroad tracks,
Where he drinks from a pint of gin,Wishing he had been admonished
With play dirt rather than the real thing.
Still, he finds no fault as he tries to assess
How failure can inhabit so many roomsAnd decrees a failure diaspora,
Dispatching memories to foreign lands.
His question only this: Is it too late
For your love? as the stars begin to fall.November 2005
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