Wild turkey sunsets

Dirt.
Covering my skin, my lungs, slowly enveloping me
like a dirty woman.
listening for your voice
floating on the wind
telling me to bare your skin,
cover you with dirt.
Listening,
all I hear are wild turkeys
filling the diminishing dusk
with garbled cries.
The sun sets,
the day ends,
the thought is gone.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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