my body hurts and i’m not sure but i

think my shirt smells

like smoke

– i don’t know why.

i want to live

behind a clock in a train station,

like the boy in that story

that i have never read.

i want to live in the ocean,

down amongst all the dark and all the crabs,

back home in the sand.

i want to live in these places but i don’t.

i live here, in the city –

where i also want to live, but

where the air is heavy with heat,

thick so it hangs around the buildings in ropes;

you can almost hang on to it

and swing.

so let’s grab it and go,

live in the woods somewhere alone,

where the air is more clear and i can see

your face

in the moonlight.

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