Too many beers in one night.

White, with lavender veins.
These words have never been read together before.
That’s just the way words work. Ones and zeroes
and binary languages inspired by binary species.

Too many beers in one nights.
Too much green for one leaf.

Airport security scares me.
So do toddlers who glare at me.
Asking questions in their eyes.
Country roads. Take me home.

Pink. All pink. To the brink. A few weeks before blueberries,
there were pink flowers on shooting star whips
in taupe branches no one notices. Who is not looking.
Metal detector beeping out in the night.
Echolocations stacked. Like layers of sound.

Or a new swimming pool in the backyard.
And a reaffirmed friendship.

Discovered within undeniable benefit.
And yet. Some form of yet. Of future tense.
Some credit we borrowed from tomorrow so no matter what,
today, we stay friends. Orange.

Red orange burnt brown yellow petals.
Bent black on the ends.

And so many strangers

The horizon is on fire.
The horizon is my mind.
Sun sets long after the advent of eyes,
when you’re this high up in the sky.

Orange fog above city centers.
Blazen baseball diamonds pitched in black settings.
Lining roads. Highways glow.
Framed dotted lines of slow rolling headlights.

My love and I.
Buckled in trading turns yawning.

The young man in the seat in front of us is on chapter forty two.
The bald guy a few seats to the right asleep
in a way that makes my neck hurt.

We waited twenty minutes for a manual before we could take off.
They told us. Must have been a good one.
Breaking ice behind us.
Sauntering in between us.
Hands grace plastic lips on an overhead storage face.
Each body in its prescribed place.

Numbers beside letters
and arms rest side by side
and so many strangers.

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