Friday, April 1, 2011


we sit
shouldertoshoulder in the cool
air, watching out
for your parents like children do
afraid of being caught
as the wrong person.
we inhale calm smoke to filter
our world, smooth out the harsh

there is no transcendence in this moment.
we are not dreaming children, we
are adults who wish
we were dreaming, lighters
tucked into our pockets, buds
in the palms of our hands. we pass
moments back

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