sarah moves with me
on the trail
we are
as mythic
as mundane as
the woods
themselves
trees reach out
and we duck
like little
animals
who love
to be alone
the sun sets
but light passes
from
her
to
me
she labors in jeans
and an old high
school
drama t-shirt
but I see a thin summer dress
at home in 1960—
behind
her
parent’s
house
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