love lost bookstand

I’m wondering through dark, narrow streets. A woman I love is tending a bookstand. It is an odd promotion for a newly released book—brightly lit stands are everywhere. The book’s name is constantly changing. We see each, but she ignores me. I’m distressed about this and don’t know what to do. I’m on a terrance and an acquaintance offers me a few drags off a joint. I take them hoping the alternative perspective will help me  understand why the woman is so angry and hurt. It doesn’t help, I only realize more fully that the situation is out of my control, but I can’t let it go. I’m racing in a car to the university we both attend. I awaken in a lingering state of strife and sadness, feeling that my love will not be seen or felt.   ♨


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