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471 Booth Street

Daylight never could explain
a wrinkled skirt and where the Honda
ended up outside the dregs
of a party across town.
She wakes up dreaming she’s lost
her breath out the 6 a.m. window
but her pulse does
double-time.  The bedroom shrinks
like sheets that spin her
a cocoon, a dance
that dizzies until it’s
time -- there’s the alarm --
to get up from.