Oyster Boy Review 08  
  January 1998
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» Levee 67


Love Song

Jon Powell

The one clear word. That's all
I want to hear. A pure bell-like
tone. The peal of laundromats.
A "pax vobiscum" flung over
your bare shoulder as you
walk away, mist swirling about
your high heels.
Leaving me an amnesiac
in a clean white light.
You piece of ass you.