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it was the perfect End. (revised.)

it was the perfect end
to the perfect day. you
and i lying lazily on a white

blanket in the middle of
our back yard. thick, lush,
green blades of st. Augustine

grass crunching helplessly under
each roll or movement. the sky
was a perfect pale blue.

cloudless. pristine. like an
out stretched scene of uncharted
land, spread out before anxious

explorers. the wind whispered
sexy little secrets to the
tree tops, who swayed at their

shameless quips. the undersides
of their leaves blushed. our
daughter ran through the pastures

with our dogs – birds sang about
holidays long since past. the catfish
disturbed the waters of our pond

hoping to catch a glimpse of the
scene. music echoed through the
dale – the haunted voices of James,

John, Otis, and Janis stirring up
mystical, Unseen things in the air
around us. i reclined on my back,

hands behind my head, knuckles stained
green in the damp grasses – and
let my mind venture upwards into the

arcane blue skies. i saw us from space,
magnetized by an invisible lens. tiny
specs on a tiny spec zooming through

our tiny stretch of an impossibly large
cosmos. and i was satisfied, completely,
with my own smallness. there i lay, fastened

to this home by invisible cords that hold us
fast to the ground, despite Newton’s
observations that our own

inertia should send us all
flying into the void.
instead, we lay here,

transfixed by smell, sound,
and gravity. only with the
severing of our souls from

our skins do we get to free fall.
until then, freedom is found on a
white blanket under a perfect sky.

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