05Aug
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he took my hand and pulled me
on top, his back to the stone lighthouse
the moon slung low over the aegean
his tongue wet in my mouth, the smell
of vodka and lemon on his breath
a man near the white church
stared as i felt his hands travel
between the straps on my back
make it stronger
i scream to the imaginary
bartender as the rocks rattle
and the olives settle and the world
shakes as the dots expand on the map
exponential growth
the world unfurls in statistics
an upward stroke calls our
demise, as we keep our
distance
isolated in our hope
waiting for all to resume
what we have learned is
we need each other