Between our lips
exhaled cumulus
notes, strummed lyrics,
chorded conversations
wisps of “soon come”

but ’til then
a grandfather’s tree
trimmed to a communal kiss
in heated seats
cracked windows
and blue aux cords
connecting kin
cumulus clouds perfuming
pleather coats and denim

Stringed pleas for time travel
Instrumental camaraderie
Recorded ancestral cries

Play yours next
I want to listen to the future
while now is a muted song
and a poem I sing


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