Blind Date Poem by Marc Hurkmans
Blind Date
Blind date
The rivers run dry,
as the buildings rise
I turn my face towards
the indifferent sky
Without wondering why this
is all happening in the first place
Saturday night, it’s hot
outside, cold inside
Hello baby, how
are you doing
Let’s get out of here
Let’s get really gone for a change
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
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5/2/2024 6:15:56 AM # 1.0.0.1119
