2.5%
Precision and constants.
These words are 2 colors
And create something bigger.
The sword from that novel is
Still lost in a riverbed because
He did not need it.
We will touch feet and
Sing songs of unashamed
Laughter while learning to
Share what should
Only be private.
We taste trickles of
Fire.
We lick lips to stay warm.
We move together in silence,
And break rules.
To see would be too much.
Don't mention the brushtrokes
Because details are not relevant,
Here.
We don't need to see the fine
Points where the texture exists,
Just the shape of the figure.
The balance.
The rush.
Angry reds and the reason
For patterns to exist.
We can learn from the promise
Of learning too much.
The spray of gravel from
Tires. The way exahust
Fills the air.
We get lost in the smell
But stay together here.