Love's Last Number. Christopher Howell

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      I’m not sure I want to go off

      on a breeze such as this that strokes the awning

      above a battered door, with the portrait of Jean-Paul Sartre

      carved just under the top hinge next to the sign

      that reminds you to abandon all hope

      every time it opens, and reads “Just kidding” when it shuts.

      On such a day I’m not sure

      what my hands mean by what they can’t contain, that blue