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Ryan Dement
Poems
May 2020
Nineteen.
We lounged around like careless gods
in southern heat
in low-rent kitchens,
splurging and
wasting each other like money.
We suggested pale plans
to eat some food
or move to the porch,
just to keep the rhythm going.
We gorged ourselves
on yesterday's jokes
and tomorrow's deadlines,
were sleepy and sated,
back before we got grown.
Written by
Ryan Dement
34/I'm right here.
(34/I'm right here.)
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