Between the last customer

and morning light

in the parking lot of the Korean Gentleman's Club,

he picks lilacs for me.

Standing high against a warehouse wall,

these always bloom early, and 

he goes annually, covertly, in the still dark,

unsure of welcome by the

Korean Gentlemen.

He fills the car.

I imagine that damp, spring-scented ride home,

his fantasy of be...

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