The Sand and the Shape

We thud
We thud
In rhythm we kick sand
leaping toward
a moon that winks
interrupted by black branches
that sway with the breeze

We spin
We spin
and the stench of booze
chases us to the wind.
The wailing begins and
it’s magical; an unexpected din.

We dance
We dance
In a circle, amassed,
enveloped by lovers,
entrenched by new friends.
The dust rises to choke in our smiles.

We live
We live
Where the joys of sound
thrum under each
surface and shape of life.
We can dance ‘til the moon combusts.



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