shades drawn
strapped for cash
ironing out the final details
a bland-looking man of forty-one
took the place of my father--
kept a low profile
the conversation quickly turned
to immature and silly
lovers hatched a plan
to make ends meet
but nobody was home
at the base of a cliff
noisy streams of tears
being wiped away
with a gray t-shirt
a cul-de-sac in the sky above
nobody was home
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