As you wailed at turning thirty
it was my cue to grasp the diem
and clearing my throat ahem
with 'I wish to make a declaration'
that will shame me terminally
and with force majeure afore
in front of the world or at least the miniature
but really very important portion
in which my social mask resides
by suggesting no insisting
that we run away run away la la
right now without logging off
or even our coats press the G
and go walk out the door with a
so long suckers and a fuck yeah pair
of fingers then the trad nervous glance
by the coffee shop in the blinding
sun as no one follows
and the soundtrack swell can't be heard but
still turn it up and turn to me and kiss me now
you're mine I'm yours you'll do
even if we've barely exchanged a word these
past three years I will I so will and
the rest of all time begins now
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