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Mar 2018
a bottle of merlot, half-empty
a board of chess, halfway through
chamber of a vintage colt, half-loaded
all lay before me yet i stare at the clock
intoxicated. exhausted.
for me, peace does not come dropping slow.

some lay awake as they are in love.
madly so- she on him, praying that they never fall apart.
He on michelangelo
longing to touch god in fingertips.
goodnight, mr. and ms. valentine
and all the ships at sea.

some stay awake because they work.
desperately so- for they have a lifetime of ratrace to attend to.
trapped in an eternity of mediocre intellectual confusion.
goodnight, mr. and ms. toiler
and all the ships at sea.

some cry awake the whole night.
surprisingly so- were they not "schooled" properly?
does she not know- "nothing lasts forever."
does he not know- "boys don't cry."
goodnight, mr. and ms. dolor
and all the ships at sea.

my companion is bored.
"who, then, sleeps in peace?"
time to show her the ships anchored.
we go outside in the mist and walk with ease.
and stop at the bend of the street
where a vagabond sleeps barefeet.
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