Luke Kuzmish

Sephanie

I looked for you
in empty cigarette packs
your brand or not
packs on the sidewalks
dropped, forgotten, or littered

I looked for you
in round faces of blondes
pumping $5 of gas
wearing boxy glasses
in methadone morning

just the same
I looked for you on line
at the clinic
where you might give
strangers a ride
because your robust
rust belt heart
always bleeds a little

I looked for you
in the passing cars
sleek and black
bumping tunes
reminds you
of your dead friend’s
funeral

I looked for you
in sweat dreams
in bad days
in loaded nights
in all the right places
to find the wrong things

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