drifting down on the warm currents.
Remember me to the meanders
that have crossed the earth for a while
and then vanished. Paint me in the shape of
a storm, one
that's always making wild mazes,
and we'll tumble down this path tonight,
together, and in the half-light of
a dream, we'll see our shadows
thrown up on the cliffs that stretch
above our little swimming shapes,
that ply the warm waters one
by one, hand
in hand.
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