the exclamation written on my hand,
i am perched upon a van in a smoke-filled hallway,
the intoxication we held between our hands,
wrapped in brown paper bags, on an east bound L train.
the exclamation seeps into my skin,
blood cells dancin’ round the ink, and it seems i've fallen,
to find salvation cast into the reeds,
where the land and water meet, with a star-cross'd darlin'.
but darlin' the night is getting on,
you best be gettin' home.
you've got rivers left to cross, history to write,
years left to go, i know, i know!
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