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Not For Sale

Sunny side-up with ham and butter on toast. Baked.
Fresh raspberry lemonade, cool morning breeze.

You catch my attention, gathering dust
under heat
Behind walls.

Echoes of pebbles under the train.
Station to station.
Reminds me of the subway ride from Upper East Side to Manhattan.

I wanted to go near you. Touch you.
But sadly you're no longer up for grabs.

Destination arrival time read eight past one
and I walk away.

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