If I Could See All My Friends Tonight

— Peter Twal

How you sit there & swear
gravity like God is just in         the air         The cold
flattens your eyes         A mind once removed         A green firetruck
blares by

I ask         Was I for hours last night ironing out
the creases of your windswept origami
        Folding, refolding         & brushing

the last ash         from your hair, dragging
littler selves to bed, walking backwards up the stairs         with you
swinging off the chandelier

I wonder if         a burning house, the wallpaper
melting, is the most beautiful place to be colorblind

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