There comes a point.
Maybe within
The clouded breath of a second
In the chilly fog
Surrounding
The wet painted metal
Of riveted steel girders
And a thick wooden planked
Pedestrian boardwalk
Of a bridge over a river
Late in the evening...
Or early in the morning
Depending
On your body clock.
It might even be
That ‘see-saw’ moment
In the parking lot
Of a bar
In a downpour
Rain pounding
On out-of-mind clothes
And just only exposed flesh.
Plummeting down
In unceasing 15 gallon tubs
On the hollow epidermis of cars
Like bullets and nails
In a sheet metal racket
Flooding
Ear chambers
With white noise
And the stripe painted asphalt
Of the parking lot
With inches of water.
A moment.
A dot in time.
No matter
What the circumstances.
If you don’t
Take that chance
Then and there
And push things forward
You are doomed
Miseraby
And regretfully
To just being friends.
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