Elia Kazan's Streetcar
by Alex Stolis
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Two more hours and dusk falls
like a plume of feathers over
a brown ocean--a dog runs
across the road, clouds slow
in time with smoke that curls
from a cigarette left on the edge
of a table. The past is painted
a weak shade of white and vanity
gets doused in whiskey. Elysian
Fields can not stifle the angry
barks and closed fists that sink
like taffeta into a sea of fumbled
and desperate attempts at affection--
night comes and beauty is caught
in one last brave and hopeless struggle.
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