when every poem starts to sound the same
like love telling you a bedtime story
and you’ve already drifted off to sleep
words seeping into your dreams
enter the banter at a night-glug tavern
moonshower shackled eyes
the who’nya done it mystery tails chasing
your name wanted
posters plastered through backlit alleys
detectives whiskering questions
tussling over who gets to be good cop / bad cop
star-dived punks with laundry bag sleeves
you put ‘em up buttercup
the hands you used milking the days away
unknotting all that pain from existing in time
opening your eyes back to awake
you wonder, who am i?
we’re back in the light
the poem is framed
because love like an afterthought
squares the circle away
without a reason
like learning to speak
just another word to say
i love the dance
of this beautiful universe
laughing in play
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