We called in sick:
Coffee, 24 hours awake
and counting!
elegant retro bike
found in the trash,
hold my hand,
grab my waist
we're riding to the sand
where our feet touch
the ocean where the
clouds are our shelter
but forget the umbrella
for the rain is coming
slowly, then showers of
alignment with the
and thunderstorm alluring
us to the nakedness
of skinny-dipping,
oh, Govinda, I see
my heart
serene and fast
out of my chest
she holds it dearly.

The sun set behind
the transparent clouds:
it is clear what we are.



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