alfie lee writing

traffic

island fire
flies flash in turn
signals dot
and dashing through the
brush

dance away
to bellies barely lit
to bet this one night's
stand to
chance

this mirror
ball of life whirls
and spells of spent
abandonment and
lust

currents jarred
in jams
of appetites bottled in
this evening
rush

taillights trace
and plot and graph
the schemes and scenes
of empty where love once
was



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