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April 15, 2010
She's splattered in pink
and he in black and gold
it drips down past his lips
and dribbles through his stubble
all the way down
all the way down
to a puddle by his feet
both, in stunned silence
the paintbrushes
askew in the grass
and the soft sweet rhymes
of the ice-cream truck
chugging through the sticky street
sweat masks the sunshine,
and paint, a brim of
colors in their eyes
and no one
no one
will ever know this feeling
as long as the summer drips on.

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