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Sunday Morning MAG
Precisely 3:00 a.m. Sunday morning
A man who slept and shaved his face and head and
a woman, who arrived later
sat on their own separate benches
he walked to her and was quickly greeted
he did not fill the typical male role
but had a gentlemanly manner
chose to focus on
the socioeconomic hierarchy
and their identities as individuals and as products,
condemning the cops for their
haughty disdain
She shed light on the pleasure of being
ice cream
He began anticipating her anecdotes
Their jaws ached and they were
eager like children
In close proximity to her body and soul
he could have sworn he was 11 years old
Every so often his gaze wandered
around her fingers.
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