on that warm, blue, day of fun,
We sipped on high spirits, spit limericks, and licked liquor-ish;
committed cynics, splitting politics,
all day sitting in the sun.
The future fell fast when the sun faded,
under an inverted black sea of cloud;
it whipped as if bent on flipping cloud ships,
while blipping drops gripped our outfits;
we sheltered in your alley.
When morning came, I limped away,
weak knees were hurting badly,
with dark clouds still above, no sign of a dove,
I looked up -
and remembered -
that one night stand-ing in your alley.
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