7:30 PM

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It was seven thirty.
You would not stay after eight
and after eight it would have become obvious.
There was order in the world,
and half an hour for us,
half an hour when we didn't really want each other,
half an hour during which we only hurt ourselves,
comfortable as we were not to have met before.

We spent half an hour arranging another hour for us,
half an hour that didn't start until it had ended,
when we said our good-byes, until next time.
And seeing you again
I didn't feel myself, nor my hunger, nor my thirst
nor any need other than you,
so I did like poets do,
erasing reality
to replace it with a better one.

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5 Comments
AmyfriendAmyfriendabout 17 years ago
Time..

is of the essence..

LeBrozLeBrozabout 17 years ago
~~

This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 34,000 poems.

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duddle146duddle146over 17 years ago
optimistic conclusion.

Time spent ~ nothing settled - but optimism continues to rear its hopeful head.

LeBrozLeBrozover 17 years ago
~~

Now here's an interesting piece of Lauren's from 4 years back...

RybkaRybkaabout 20 years ago
Any Time You Want It. . . Any Time at All

Your last lines tie it all up. - tie the whole world up in the artist's eye! :rose:

"so I did like poets do,

erasing reality

to replace it with a better one."

>?)))><

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