a sharp minor is the first

every time we kiss you taste like sirens and the ticking of a timer count down the swinging of our hands     interlocked, simultaneous with steps we’ll walk by the river and know there are bullsharks it’s filthy  and muddy,  there is clearer water up there– where you’re from? greener pastures and trees they span centuries,   you always tell me     it’s time   i suppose,     we know,    for it’s the first         the last         we’ll never come back     to each other                                                              we already know

map this country with lovers, regions peppered with calamities and twinkling, dancing smiles like new south wales its tangled hair, victoria’s shady and dim, dim early morning lamp post, posted phone calls, we are most similar and furthest, i never think of you when i listen to transatlanticism but i think                       i might start


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