days and hours outside

there are hours in the yard
playing in the clean rain
and there are days spent
smoking standing in the street
as cars big as whole homes rush by
their occupants staring from the second-story
windows down upon us through curtains
we wish we could close a little more

it is foggy even where we stand
mist is rising where the soles of our shoes step
it runs up faster when we breathe in
hold your breath
and i will hold my own

we can move holding hands
to a treehouse in the backyard
where nothing is higher but the sun
and we will pull the rope up
and nothing will climb in but the light breeze
of our two voices whispering under eyes shut tight

spread out

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