The street lights blushed as they looked upon us
kissing from 9 pm to quarter to two.
Wait, is that trumpets, or live ammo overhead?
Depends. What was it, again, I just said?
"Hold tight to your blanket tonight,"
the voice announced once more to the world.
Unless you believe in whim,
and that moon inexplicably
three times its normal size!
Or a sense that life is not meant to be this hard,
that I dreamed it up wrong, and it needs redreaming.
Maybe a story might...
well, it might.
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