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When the Music Stops

Author: Lynn Valentine
Year: Future

Essence of sweat and gin,
a constant lap in that room
where we pretended to be grown-ups,
reading Kerouac and imaginary estate agent’s schedules.

Let’s buy a house in the North,
have seven children, keep bees.
We cut up clothes and magazines,
radiator’s rattle a constant companion,
iron frame draped in damp underwear.

Loss still a future word, not troubled by us yet.