she slips.
Her grip upon my hips having
been denied,
she lands in snow.
Mistakes leave outlines unlike angels,
and tire treads look like tired faces.
I drive free.
I leave
the cards, the coins,
and her
behind, but
she is still there
in the mirror.
Free now,
its another night lingering
between fingers...
the cards and the coins slipped.
One magic act
will resolve it all?
I think not.
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