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This is for the late nights

and the fireside reveries

and the linguistic swing dances

and the California fairie balls

This is for those of you who shout

even when your voices are hoarse

from singing the praises of one another

and those accomplishments

those brilliant accomplishments

This is for the hands that grasp

the warmth of a million summers

like fireflies in the night sky

you wouldn't believe your eyes

without thinking that whoever made this:

She must be beautiful

To know beauty like your favorite freckle

or your favorite line in a song

if I could write you a love song

It would be because you asked

Would you memorize it by heart

and would you know that time

was kept on the fingers we laced together?

You gentle wildfires

You Jupiters in retrograde

You class acts knowing just how to act

like summer is just a word

but so is forever

and so is a moment

and so if it's all really transient

like they say

then why can't every moment mean forever?

You thunder bolts

You grease lightnings

stuffed into your grandma's favorite mason jars

holding small infinities like daylight

with the taste of smores on your lips

and strawberry fields

the color of cotton candy skies

Scream out to the oceans you came from

and thank them

because even if there are plenty

of fish in the sea,

remember that Venus was born there

to leave you the world in her oyster

You honest legends

You instrumental geniuses

The way you weave shared histories

and friendships into sleepovers

and football games

and road trips

and every window pane

you smudge your fingers up against

like artists in the dark:

Keep smudging

till every night looks like a Starry One.



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