THE GRACIOUS INTERMEZZO
Here, faulted as a golden shaft, stands
the better of the two : 'We are between
worlds, my friend, and it's us alone.'
Sour mash and conflagration, like a
July Fourth nightmare in an over-crowded
harbor. Agitated and riled, the crowd sways.
River water runs. Clouds skim low. Out on
that bay, the boats and the sails at play.
We never skipped the retribution, or
the paying of our dues. Whatever
came down, we accepted.
It was the least that
we could do.
Here, faulted as a golden shaft, stands
the better of the two : 'We are between
worlds, my friend, and it's us alone.'
Sour mash and conflagration, like a
July Fourth nightmare in an over-crowded
harbor. Agitated and riled, the crowd sways.
River water runs. Clouds skim low. Out on
that bay, the boats and the sails at play.
We never skipped the retribution, or
the paying of our dues. Whatever
came down, we accepted.
It was the least that
we could do.
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