Two shoulders touching.
Music’s blue-green haze.
Their joined contour
A distant seagull …
The vee of departure …
That’s where all the secrets are:
In the leaning.
In the tense stillness
That halts momentum toward,
Because it knows.
Later.
A pinprick of clarity
Shines through the muddle.
Vodka transcendence,
Glycerin swirl.
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