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Walking not to some place
But from

I remember a sky filled with Wyeth clouds

Resting on deserted bleachers
He asked if I was cold
My t-shirt arms were tight across my chest
But I shook my head with a quiet no

He ignored me of course and
wrapped his jacket around my shoulders
Always preferring Southern chivalry

I slept in that coat
For a single hour
But for months after wards
I could inhale the scent

Leather, wood smoke and whispers

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