SHORT SIDE

and I know who I am.

the one who brings water in the desert. 

"oh wait, I forgot my -"

I hand it to him,

keep on walking past the words.


a wave offering.

golden sheaths of grain

champagne chiffon like the flapper girls we yearn to save

come away, come away


I find you before the sun comes up.

past imprints verbalize the strokes of graphite

milestones cascade onto smeared paper

that I know who I am.


talk to me about slavery

and how it makes your story beautiful.

you sold yourself away.

new wave, new wave


high tide, low tide.

lauren says to document it all

so I engrave, I press play

come away, come away


those aren't mountains, they're waves.

and we see from such great heights

when we park at magnolias under the bridge

and smile from the short side.

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