days and hours outsidethere 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 |
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