We sat next to the storm drain
And counted the gun wrappers.
Me in papayawhip lipstick
Him glamorous, yet subtle.
How many harbours must a runaway touch
Before she is a traveler?
He held my hand and traced the lines of my palm--
A chiromancy romance,
A buzz.
High Pressure.
And all the while he knows my future--
This is how it begins.
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