We speak in dialogue
like characters in a book,
no a story which has no end.
We jumble our phrases
so let’s pretend
that the author was sipping gin
and wasn’t doing much thinking.
Now we’re laying there on my bed
laughing at the times we spent,
strolling around downtown, evening lights
can you remember the silly things we said?
Now we’re standing there, face to face
and I’m wondering what to say
but there’s not a word on my tongue
that I haven’t already sung.
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