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We Walk Across Oceans - POEMS
Seas of mud / New love, true love

Seas of mud / New love, true love

Seas of mud

Lost a shoe in the shuffle

back there, that’s what they told me.

All I can do is double knot

with stiff fingers and quick prayers

and trust in the metal holding

me to earth that we run

instead of slide like skaters

soaring through brown ice.

The guys lope like gentlemen,

silent companions as I enter

the shadows of the valley

where beer bottles loiter like the drunk

in the bushes and creases of the trees.

Look straight ahead, my legs marching

like a part of the band, listening

to the silent beat, synchronized runners

running from the sins of older men, women.

Bus leaves at dawn,

before the sun has bothered

to duck out of bed. Grab a pillow

or a friend and snooze before the race rises

in fiery splendor. The way back is nothing

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

but wind, familiar scent of sweat,

friendship songs like the Irish back in Dublin.

Hill day strips us all of pride,

the muscles of the body beating

like a heart, inching up and down

the land like caterpillars. Ride the rush

of freshly mowed green

like a rollercoaster in reverse—

rush the ups, coast the downs.

We chat through slits of breath,

just two bodies following the mold of the earth,

rising and falling like inevitable tides.

New love, true love

My new love was sleek

as Teslas, smart as a California

tux or the math teacher I slept through.

Her glow was a nightlight,

a haze of blurred stars in my living room

—my vivacious xbox,

wires curled just so,

her mind racing a million

miles a minute.

These were the glory days of Halo,

circling the rings, finger on the trigger

as we chatted through the headphone waves

to people countries and continents apart.

We engaged in negotiations, idle chit chat,

jumped-started friendships and smack talked

with the best of them.

And when the game stretched

into the view of your parents

and we had to hit the neighborhood streets

to stretch our legs, we mounted ripsticks

like spaceships and ran

the cul-de-sac ring,

mouths pumping faster than our legs

as we discussed strategy,

two army generals in t-shirts and shorts.