Nick Dupree

The Last Friday

Swaths of blue cover midnight sky,
high oaks and
me.

Most
fail to look up

Red and white lights
streak through night streets
and I'm haunted
by chairs that are empty but aren't,
fake shine words

and real,
a moment navy sweater hug
of weeks past,
from a February girl
like a hot day in December
rare, relieving,
then flash
of sweater in periphery
blink,
it only lasts in the eye
red and white
flickers down dark Mobile roads.
blue streaks fill the
quiet night sky

Most
fail to look up

a solitary star flickers
in the blue,
a lone buoy in the strange sea that's
rippling above us all.















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