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mobius in the city

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your hand clasped mine
our fingers were woven into the neatest tablerunner,
all tight stitches and even weaving.

together we wove between people,
laughing to each other at our shared annoyance
at trailing behind
on the heels
of slow
people
and the way we’d huff when we passed by them

we had all the time in the evening,
all the time in the world and i wouldn’t give a minute
up to any other

step followed step and
we found ourselves closer,
then apart and blushing because
we’d shared parts of childhood and now we knew
each other like blood brothers

we went closer again
but
people jostled us,
and we,
moving too,
were swept away in the crowd.
but it didn’t matter because
your hand clasped mine



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