Camping Out

November 2, 2009
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Crafty wires hold the flaps
To an upright tent,

A starry escape.

Half bent,
Out of shape,
But our cords won’t ever snap.
Double sided
Truth or dare,
Spin the bottle:
There.
Do you see it?
Can you sense it?
It is setting into stone
It’s the sound a friendship horn would make
A cello, or trombone
Flashes from a camera burst,
They wind around the night
Leaves spongy spots of red
Yellow yellow.
Blue Blue,
Light.
Strings tightly bind each person here
To the others
Like some glue
And paste on pretty faces
Tumbling leaves,
The shadows twist the new
It’s coming from the flashlights
Round the pillows,
Comfy fleece.
And warm hearts of four friends,
Yellow yellow.
Blue blue
Peace





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