the winding roads welcome
and the dust leaves crawl across the tar like small creature
spirits
watching your turn
i feel i would hit something
like boxes and solo cups
strewn
as i watch the moon
hover
like a tan chrome
swirled bowl
hand-painted
in this calm
i change the world
and we circle round each other
as we had to from our conception
and august will be a month to keep.
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