TGIF




Even the Smallest Paradise


by CJ Evans

The women in pencil

skirts spill from towers



and let down all

their disarming hair.



They hold caramel

glasses of whiskey



with sweet vermouth

as men with undone



cuffs speak something

secretive into the felt-



lined boxes of their

ears. The thunder



of planes is ignored,

and the four o'clock



flowers are fully

open. Their laughter



is a siren, echoing

among the buildings.



And they don't look

as the white parachutes



drift down to them

like dandelion seeds.












 

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Hey, thanks for your thoughts and your time:>)

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