When we are by ourselves
in order to make sense of the smashed up
glassware still on the kitchen floor
Our voice rises with our excitement
realizations and revelations
I am free of it.
You are free of it.
Someone will clean up the baby carrots
under the table
We're all filled with it.
When no one is listening
soft melodies inside our cracked lips
remember sunlight through the branches
of the city's freeways
Do you know how the boardwalk held us all
above the frozen bathwater?
Our heads heavy with our words
Our laughter crashing on the wood.
Behind us the West Coast
burned eternal
inside rolling hillside
windows
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