last night i looked at Mars, its closest orbit in 60,000 years, sparkling red-gold like a shard of amber glass
astrologically, Mars is willful, lustful, martial its closeness left me reeling, trapped in a private force field
then, this morning; our fourth meeting, truly accidental, but veiled and electric as the first
you and i, translucent as embryos, briefly, eyes locked like magnets and your train came
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