i slide my palm (unaware but not disinterested) into the slit of threadbare denim over a smooth angle of hipbone toward the deep corner of pocket where you (a foreign coin gathering my heat) nestle my fingers seek your contour and edges (my heart needs refuge far away from here) i settle and retract my hand but you (unsettled) you flee and flip through the air (no matter how familiar the edges i never can guess which side will land upright to the sky) heads or tails is anyones guess
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