Blonde Simile

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There is no other way to say this so I’ll say it as it comes out of me:

like a dim lit alley with the scent of the evening’s rain

like a shutter kept at 1/4

like the first day of snow

like snail mail I waited for a month

like the keys I hate to lose

like the hymn I hum in the morning shower

like a bed well made

like feet soaked in warm water

like my favorite breakfast spot

like a dorm room

like the book I don’t want to finish

like the car that took my parking space

like dark chocolate

like dust on a shelf

like an unfed baby

like a Brazilian wax

like burnt garlic

like my last armchair

like Tuesday’s with Morrie

like a pencil and a cassette tape

like dripping sweat

like a dictionary

like fasting

like an oasis

like orange rust

like Autumn’s leaves

like Abraham

like a boulder

like rice

like varnish

like tremors on the 14th floor

like sinking sand

like purgatory

like nuclear bombs

like shredded paper

like the “last” smoke

like a city at 1am

like a damp blanket

like the deaf

like silent gasps

like a sinner’s prayer

like it’s gone.

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