Two final footsteps echoed against the scratched glass door
& off we were—
murmuring swampy lives away,
lobbing for ourselves the God-given champagne
against the bobbing she-queen, Queen of the Nile.

Life was in bubbles, great wads
of the stuff, tacky & sweet and still
criss-crossed in hot-blooded pen—

the deeper we burrowed in our footstep murmurs,
the deeper we saw;

until the hole grew so lightless
so breathless
so pointless

we found refuge.

In a dustless place
of cause and effect, we cleansed
wiped off the edits with leaves of grass—
and let it go.

Like dry, sapless timber
we were lit with fire
slept warm, loose–
counting blessings with pebbles
bliss of total

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