Should-be-sleeping but oh, too alive poem.

There comes a time when

walking in a backwards wrongfooted flip flop

with braids undone and a

rose-tickled sunburn

a-singing with a loud unpretentious laugh-tone

in a solemn judged room with none of

that make-up on

crying so hard but it’s just because of chuckling at the

absurd-sauce and the glasses that

were so out of style

we’re not out of style but the funny doesn’t leave it since the

stern and frowning brows drawn low

claim our audacity

for us

But there’s no time when

laughing in a wrong-footed flip flop sunburned grins

are out of place since we just

live inside the moment

no thanks to what happens

if. we. wait.

This is like the coast we visited late this afternoon (Lake Ontario)

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