We threw ourselves around the room
Last Friday.
Pulsating and delirious with liberation.
Scattered,
We’re scrambling to find out who
Are the triangles, the circles, the
Hexagons.
Smiling as the snow melts into the
Sky,
Wishing for things we already had.
No survivors
In the mass takeover we plan
In doorways,
Like we had any semblance of a clue,
Dancing that subtle getaway dance and
Hugging
Like we could break.
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