As We Crested the Hill
by John Repp

    As we crested the hill, the city blinking
    in the May night, I shook off my jacket,
    swung it over my shoulder, and we twined arms,
    loosened our steps downhill, then parted.

    I marveled at the tulips kept by the man
    who each noon bends among them,
    and you marveled how bed is the place
    where flowers lie. I sang a song

    I couldn't shake, you sang one I hate,
    and as our duel woke desire, I thought
    how little I knew and never would know
    more than a little.

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