The Last Superstition
It’s always better when we’re together
than when we’re apart,
so the logic goes.
The logic of those who love,
the logic of our lovers.
This is the last superstition,
the last delusion: I think back
to your face flushed in the dark street,
your lips shiny as licked stone.
I remember every time I was with you—
no reason and no pretext—and
now I’m alone,
letting my mind spool out to its end
and then play it all over again,
like a tune or a prayer.
____ AKSHR
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