I sit like a snap dragon, leaning on a fence.
blending with the prickly brown wood,
marking up my white shirt.
If I will the night to come,
maybe it will come quickly.
"Quickly". Sour, crab-monster word.
If time moved as fast as I wanted,
I'm sure I'd be dead.
When night finally arrives,
I can see a flash of light probing the moon.
Aliens watch our independence day,
oohing and aweing at the misfortune of the burdened stars.
And like Reagan,
I only wanted Star Wars to be a reality.
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