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by phil gennuso

by phil gennuso

your glow is almost surreal,
spilling over the countertop
into the cold darkness.

the power is out, the lines are down,
the wind howls,
the nor’easter is let loose.

not you though,
you sit calm, almost cerebral.
our conversation is so basic,
so elemental,
so soothing,
the rest of the situation
does not seem to matter much.

so we sit together, in silence,
apart from this world,
alone, to ourselves,
trapped by this strange quiet,
surrounded by this growing darkness.

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