Drew Schoenfeld

October 6th 1999
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Moths on the Midnight Lamp

Another coffee please
For the table
We’ll have to pay
In the language of our labor

you see,
we’re all moths on the midnight lamp
We have lost all but our bodies

When our souls were lit
With the image
Of a Landing

May this suffice
As payment
For coffee

The favor won't be returned
There is nothing saved
Only pieces we've touched
Scattered throughout
this Way
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