Oil Poem by Ana Burnhep
Oil
The sun came without hope
Oil ran into the streets
Formed a mirage of faces that laughed at me
There are no seasons in Angeles
Just a mess of cars
And vacant beauty
This longing will not stop
When it rained last
We fit together you said
Friday, December 10, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: longing,seasons
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8/6/2026 7:01:29 PM # rel_20260806T081513Z_580e7f4
