The train there
,
my legs over yours.
In and out of sleep
,
your profile in my peripheral.
The city backwards
,
our palace for the night.
Out to eat
,
BYOB.
As we searched for a taxi
,
the wind failed to give up.
One glove on your hand
,
the other on my opposite.
We held each other through the stares
,
and the music was fine.
When we came back at night
,
there was some sort of love.
The florescent light from across the street
,
we failed to sleep.
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