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Young people sitting




Streaked with a green patina of tears

accrued over years of open scrutiny

they sit not on a pedestal


in a celebrated square

but on low stools, by a leafy lakeside

walkway, leaning into each other’s spaces


her hands clasped in front seeming

to hold the secret of their bond

or its dissolution


his eyes draw down from a hand-cradled

face, perhaps not grasping

while hers attend unblinking


engaged, oblivious to the summer stream

of passing couples, walking

or cycling or wandering free.

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