From your house I fled gently, and laughed in the evening.
Too weak to dance. Timid in the aftermath.
I traveled smooth through slow tunnels,
wore thin the scenery and left grey traces.
Dawn. I walked on. Heavy. Soft bones on Sunday.
Slow and sad through the park of young boys slim and quick.
Until finally the rain came, danced three-four time emphatic.
I turned at random. At a stair near a fountain,
I turned toward home.
near a fountain
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