The full moon sits still
As though a hand reached up and placed it in the sky
Behind the dancing tree tops
That move to the drum
of my 27th year

A fire is burning
In the shallow belly of a midnight cloud
Passing by

And as I sit here with this cool beer pressed against the skin of my upper thigh
I can feel the breeze of my mortality
Hitting me like a thousand bullets
With holes I know I need to somehow fill

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