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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