stupid question
you sit in an armchair
living room lit by citronella candles outside
i see your silhouette as you raise blackberry brandy to your lips
liquid darker than north pole winter nights
slides to your stomach, your brain
your lips fade into the shadows as you smile
"who is your favorite poet?" i ask
completely aware that's an impossible question
and your lips disappear again in darkness
"ah, tiffany," you say
but leave my question
floating the air like a dragonfly whisper
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