open windows

down a winding upward path, flung
into fate’s maw, seeking.
maybe there was meaning
deeper than the thoughts of you, lost,
the bloom of hibiscus
and imagined jasmine; forget justice,
price of too few, perfect minutes
singing against a wind that twisted:
around us, the hillsides, my inhibitions,
pressed me deep into your pockets
playing viscerally with
all i had left of high ground.

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