the smokestacks of this town
look so beautiful when I think of them
as your legs, long and lean.
you tap the edge of the sky
with your big toe.
even with all this coal dust
smeared across the bridge
of my nose, I felt beautiful.
all the frames shook themselves
off of the wall as the train passed.
I imagined the tracks, all hot
and smooth. The cat cried out,
hid under the bed.
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