I'm at that age now
where the people I watched wed
are filling for divorce.

it bores a hole, similarly gauged 
to commune with gravity
clutching spaces, knuckles' wide 
between pauses:
breathless moments of wherewithal
sentiment and statement, emptied 
poorly lit podiums, stood up to greet a moonless night.
from deep within newly parched lips they ask :
"what do we do now?" 
Never a ...

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