I hear us talking
a never-ending phrase
we swallow all commas
twist them sideways in our throats
and give them back
like belched birthday gifts
celebrating this day
by invoking that day
infusing everyday
with the virtuoistic craft
of turning air and accidents
into things to be shared
i see our words
filling out inro
neon rounded "open" signs
and scrolling marquees
starting and ending with a promise
that this joy will be here
when i need it most
so tell it again
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