the stars would dip into our lakes
and get wet with anticipation.
our modern world would cry out.
and spinning around endlessly,
searching for the answer,
it would crumble into tiny pieces
and disappear into the humid air of summer.
a wild turkey would breeze past us in the night,
drunk with the weight of everything.
and we would be left laughing,
sitting by a fire just as lost as ever,
saying swim coyote swim.
but it is not up to me.
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