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Parting

by Frank Thomas Smith


A window flew open clattering wood,

A girl leaned out as far as she could.


The gentle breasts that filled her dress

Trembled with distraut distress.


A moment later on the bottom floor

A man flung open the rotting door.


She cried: ¿Cuándo volverás?

That, he spat, I know not.


He limped across the puddled street,

Cursing the slowness of his feet.


I've often wondered but never learned

If that macho ever returned.




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