dancesofzola

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poem46 poem47 poem48 poem49 poem50 poem51 poem52 poem53
poem55 poem56 poem57 poem58 poem59 poem60 poem61


and no flying pigs either

london
the park where deer run
a sky without clouds
a single drop of liquid falls onto your face
we study the sky
(again)
and see no person flying
wildly flapping their arms
and sweating a single drop

(i'll wonder forever if you were crying)
red face


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