Riff off of the lines, "A wave of longing through my body swept, / And, hungry for the old, familiar ways"
Supper tasted less friendly after those nights
spent toasting to spirits and long legs
of cheap wine—which gave us over,
so nicely, to the cobbled alleyways.
We were always seduced by its graffiti
walls, begging for our affections, luring us
inside as sirens do. Sometimes we’d follow
streets instead. Those with the most beautiful
names. There was never a right way. Never were we
sure or certain. Headless and curious as the universe
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