This was not just a room – it was

A milestone- a first communion,

A crisp suit, a new car, a fresh haircut-

A blank set of blueprints on how to be human.

It was a field where shoes aren’t needed-

Where you break curfew and don’t care about

Time or memory, where everything stands

Still because your mouth can’t keep up with

Smiling it wants to do. Eyes speak more

Than hands because they meet others and know

That there’s no need to hide and blow lines

Off of picture frames holding the dead eyed stares

Of mistakes and regrets. This was a room,

Where a beautiful girl and I first met. 


by Michael Murray

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