When eyes
close
And lips
close
And everything
scatters to the wind,
When savage clouds
blossom
And cold air
sharpens the appetite
Of the
water that swirls in figures of 8,
When the burnt
out cigarette
Drops from
your lips
And mingles
with all those tongue tied words,
You stand
with your Lion-heart
At the
jumping off place,
And you’re
not scared
One bit.
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