Tuesday, October 27

a poem that flies


feet on sidewalk
far below
the thunder

green clouds
you know what I mean

I meet you in the middle
of the street
here a few feet
from the pothole

tornado nearing
no matter
take my hand

we lift
into the air

our feet pulled
awayaway from
each other

we are toss

we are landing on the metal

but there is not let go
no no not this time

we are cradled in
the raised hydraulic arms
of a demolished bulldozer

without opening my eyes
there you are
I feel fine

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