Valediction

Triangle of warm 
    sun, elderflower
pressé, a certain
   hunger for the kindness
of shopkeepers. 

Each pore on my left 
   arm, right wrist
scream goodbye
to the paleness
   of winter, saturating.

And even if the bright-
ness induces a certain
   blindness, still
I’m grateful for how
it will drag us out
   of doors,
to converse with
the tight-lipped
  and the shrieking
young of this
   fair city.

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