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Mirage The man in the Mexican Restaurant had your build. Your haircut, shoulders, rib cage and behind. You, easy. From the back, in a minute. My body, turncoat, began agitating. Warm, welcoming sensation. Cling peaches in heavy syrup. Entirely consumed by you. Until, as mystery will, he turned his head to reveal a stranger. The wrong man. If only he could have stood still with his back to me forever. Just like you. photo by Alyosha Tristan Sonju
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