Come and Gone

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How silver-precious

Those friendship beats,

Come and gone like

The six-prompt watchman

Between the Black Church

And the White Tower

In this or that foreign city.

Smiles exchanged, words danced

On benches by big, capital-brown rivers;

Cruel fingers on the new-named clock tower

In whose history-shadows we lingered,

Measuring the so-long seconds

Between now and the

Wide-yawn platform stations

And handcuff clocks and tickets.

Until next time …