little wing

we met at the water, the nice, lake,
where we'd sit when you didn't want to look at; me
the service was short and i said
are you sad and your brother floated down to the dirty little stick part i said are you sad and i pulled his body and pulled and re-directed him to the faraway and you stood
and you said let me touch you and you held me and said you feel like bones i don't want to let go i said
i want to talk about your brother
and that's when you let me go for "good"

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