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THE MAN IS ME ❋ Wassim Hage

Somewhere along the shoreline
there is a man vomiting, in a good way:
colored socks and a wide sense of home, big trees, big sky, small
brain, small eyes
here is a public excess, a genetic engine and I would suspect foul play,
but how did you figure? big and brutal structures make flower
variations in the parking lot

This is the most beautiful color, the color of your cat, the hunger in your
endow there: a solar pleasure, the unique experience of knowing
something others don’t
take a second to hold your oneness and tell me something I don’t know
the restaurant down the street, a little shack serving looks, let’s make
it a date

I believe in the magic of a heart hardened by the wind, the crisp
currency of citrus motes
and a rain of leaves in autumn, falling to signal that you will be
receiving a message shortly
from your beloved or from the beast who babbles to you in your sleep,
calming rue
effective grout council, little go, letting grow the perfect palette of
your lips and mine

I love the campus, the aching dent of your smile, we’ll go back to school
we’ll grow bold together and miss all of our classes, knotted leafy
verve climbing