Degrees of danger


You always smiled at the slippery sun
aglow, amassed yet sinking below the umbrella,
casting shadows throughout the beer garden.
Nothing at that point could ever call us home;
sun-kissed, we were, on the verge of the great divide,
unbalanced understandably, but forever open
to what a night can give in way of danger.

Covert threats never bothered us much,
tacky violence of the bored, abused, we avoided
by stepping over, cautiously, the bleeding
or angry. Existential questions–the trellis
upon which we wove the tendrils of intellect,
pruned our angst, removed all ennui,
in the amber arbour of long afternoons.

Never, please, underestimate your effect
of extracting pearls from me like grit
filtered from oceans of disorder, extracts
that simmered and summarized experience–
brothers at daybreak, sunrise, sunset, dreamers.
Sometimes when we stood, space deceived,
palms spun and Stygian beards paused to watch
us leave, unencumbered, as any philosopher leaves,
empathically insinuating one freedom after another.

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