oh, Zuma! trace those words again on my skin. secret words. you only mouthed in my direction on a whim. I slipped my toes into them. and ran a race to win. miles away now at the Getty. coloring butterflies with crayons in the gallery. my friend, can you also be caught and counted? like pennies in our fountain or stars out over the terrace. are you my Polaris? a north star to point the way for tired Capricornus? or just a fickle wind.
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:)
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