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sympathy poem

dans une vieille chambre s'est doucement allumé
il était un jeune oysterman grand
peut-être
écoutez la mer retentissante
la femme a beaucoup manqué, comment vous appelez à moi, appel à moi
bougies se renversant en longueur dans des bidons de tomate
ville qui n'est pas une ville
nous n'étions pas beaucoup
j'aime mon heure de vent et de lumière
je vous attends
doucement pleurant

 



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