Paperbacks

Leaves, cracked brown by summer’s death and the weight
Of my shoes in their unforgiving tread
Sigh susurrated numbers, mark the dates
That saw us twisting insubstantial threads
Of communality in paperbacks
Crack-crossed by lived-in, bent-back spines,
Our reading habits like insomniacs
Lusting after book-bound Frankensteins.

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