Ankles Break the Ground

Our seats

swung

sweetly,

in tandem,

that day in the park;

I remember thinking

I was swinging into another

dimension with You.

 

Nice, I suppose,

when words scratch my throat—

no matter where I go,

inhaled so many times,

like a Girl,

like when the parking lot blocked us,

so we turned and went home.

 

Whatever it was we shared,

I only wished,

for as long as I was there—

on Earth—beside you—on a swing—

or dimensionally-speaking

near the orbit of Us—

that we had made our bed,

we had taken our chances,

and when it ended, we

wordlessly slept tangled

on top of what was left

of our Dimension.

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