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cosmic connection

gray mist

yellow light

orange path

green salsa damp, still air

the set of a staged production

as it is about to begin,

but i can feel the ending it’s the day of leaving

and it’s slipping by,

but i blink and entertain a fantasy

we might freeze time by slipping into the village

painted on the truck,

taking sanctuary in the adobe church if i could only hold the moment

in my hand,

but it is already spilling

through my fingers yet we still have this you sitting across from me

your hand in mine,

in the present tense

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