it was just a sandwich just a salad served in a booth we were undivided from our thoughts our present held our past irresponsible for what we were that day he looked as young as change left on the ground we spoke about grandfather's birthday same day as America's steam engine we would ride around the yard before potato salad friend chicken cole slaw root beer fiddle music tin tones of the clanky upright piano sour the way that chuch chimes always sound I thought his eyes looked maybe twenty-five with innocence that comes with believing loving anything unchecked on purpose over years
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