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i think of you:
that time we,
that place we
those dreams we,
those things we;
of all of the things we,
and all the songs and places we:
of all this,
this everything,
this inbetween,
this We.

i listen, walk, forget, then flounder,
think, that this, the path,
i know, but not the path;
and you,
you walk your path,
so near to mine,
they often caress and intertwine,
footsteps leading
there, elsewhere.

(there’s an edge we can’t come back from,
a brink we dance on,
we dreamers of dreams,
we human beings;
a place to hide,
and to collide)

you’re always there,
at world’s end where light begins,
where birdsong intersects, collides,
our laughter connecting the canyons;
a thunder drifting before us,
compelling us into the sound,
air into a vacuum:
propulsion, compulsion,
where flesh touches flesh,
all energy and light.

i and you,
you and i,
we and me,
you and us,
things between,
too numerous;
the path, the name,
on tongues, on ears,
a song, to taste, to feel:

a breath on skin,
the fluttering sound
of quaking aspen leaves.

for you,
dearest one;
2017 05 18
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