poem, prose

Shenanigans

Sleepy lights over glasses

Morning dew at midnight

Dripping from the bottle brim

Of cold toxic, tasty

Deadly mist from fireflies

Glowing on a stick’s tip

Puffs of clouds and death

And our thoughts

Escaping from our lips

Slowly orbiting

Morphing what’s at sight

‘Til our slumber

At the birth of daylight

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