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Rooftop MAG
Hands dusted of peach pit,
Gravel, and feathered things
Which perch in souls,
Tiptoes clutching ledges,
Rawboned, everything that is us
Groped for the courage to leap.
Pulses jagged,
Vertigo in every direction,
A fraying tidbit of moment,
All we ever wanted to do was fall.
You examined the sprawl below,
The wrinkled visage of landscape and fractal cities,
Watched the people pursuing the horizon,
And determined that the world was flat.
I remember looking at my toes and staring for a long time.
You didn't laugh when I asked you,
But you didn't say yes.
We walked back home.
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