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2002-12-30

out on

pearl street: the ones who never found out

ice clinking in wineglasses

mixing with earth, stone and mortar

crumbling up against the shuffling bare feet

of hippies that woke up realizing

they'd been left out in the rain

and it was starting to storm

they said: i want to take you down to the beach love

i want to wrap my genderless naked body

around your genderless naked body

i want to stir up some stars and feed

a whole city, she said shhh

the woman that was the city

she said, i can't hold you here much longer

my fences are getting tattered

with those angry signs, those picket lines...

she said i'm growing wrinkles around the edges of my eyes

and i'm so tired i could sleep for weeks

there were uprisings, i suppose:

there are always oceans

there are always tides

and the moon will always call us back and forth

suggesting we sway to something

a little more natural

there is the way we live our lives

we try to fillet our days into manageable pieces

we cook them up into personal pan pizzas

the city breathed in smoke and sawdust

and she exhaled so softly, you could hardly hear the whisper

over the din of a million bodies crinkling up

but it pierced someone anyways, and he fell to his knees.

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