walking to my wife’s 12th week
of chemotherapy
we
playing
the emperor
and empress
of all maladies
the sun
hanging half-assed
in union square
and don’t you know, my dear
that god only exists
for twentysomething blondes
without a care in the world
their big tits in sports bras
and tights asses in biker shorts
jogging slowly
through these piss soaked
manhattan streets.
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