The reading ends and I scurry out the door. In front of a darkened café I smoke a cig. I intend to return, socialize, but the pressure is too great. A voice inside my flesh demands to be taken home, coddled, wrapped in blankets. I hurry off before I’m seen.
Lovers in swan shaped boats paddle along the canal. The late afternoon sun shimmers on the surface. Hordes of people wander the banks in various states of undress. They walk dogs and hold hands and hurriedly eat ice cream before it drips down the cone. Simple pleasures cure the lives we lead.
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