If I Could See All My Friends Tonight
— Peter Twal
How you sit there & swear
gravity like God is just in the air The cold
flattens your eyes A mind once removed A green firetruck
blares by
I ask Was I for hours last night ironing out
the creases of your windswept origami
wing Folding, refolding & brushing
the last ash from your hair, dragging
littler selves to bed, walking backwards up the stairs with you
swinging off the chandelier
I wonder if a burning house, the wallpaper
melting, is the most beautiful place to be colorblind
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