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His Escape to Lake Erie
By Patty Mooney

By late morning
he had not returned.
Lost, the pull and current
of his seductive arms.
He had abandoned
what he would not need
to my search for romance.
I found succor in alarm.
His goodnesses impermanent
as birds walking ebb.
At Lake Erie he was fishing
for passion while I
routed his luggage for anything
of mine.
© Copyright 1998, Patty Mooney, All Rights Reserved.


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Document last modified on: 01/06/2007

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