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Imagine ourselves alone on a metal planet
What could we speak of love,
Surrounded by steely mirrors only,
Black skies above?

Could rusting deserts ever yield
One soft caressing phrase,
One tender word, a single thought
That wouldn't stab or graze?

No kinder modulation
Between rough extremes
Could give a momentary rest
Within our jagged dreams.

Nothing of moist comfort
To those the blast has skinned -
Only the truth of all we lack
Speaks in the bruising wind.

George Simmers

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