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Heat radiates from your body
into the cool night air,
just as it rises from the red brick
of the abandonned mills
allong the Merrimack.
Ice glides across
your inner thighs,
tongue following
trail of cold water.
Outside sirens wail,
and helicopter searchlight
sweeps down the alley below.
If they come for me tonight,
and find me beside you
naked and unarmed,
let the rhythm of your breath
be the last sound I hear
before the door caves in.
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