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The last time
I held you –
the train was just leaving.
A pink piece of twilight
was burned soft as coal.
A whistle of promise –
came sweet
down the canyon –
for a moment
was a hand
we could hold.

The last time
I saw you –
was just around morning.
We rolled into Beaumont
and stopped for a bite…
I remember that look –
how distant
how dreamy –
reflecting on something
we’d lost
to the light.

The last time
I kissed you –
was two o’clock Sunday…
bent over choices –
some place
never been.
A dark stretch of highway
and no place for turning –
back to beginning
we wandered

The last time
I called you –
I suffered my longing
how deeply the missing –
a place you once knew.
How tender –
these memories
of roads left to travel –
ere time give me
pardon –

a last time
with you.