Water Song. By Wayne H.W Wolfson.



Somewhere, in the dark, she hides her secret wishes.
Again, the boy-girl thing.
Come on in, the water’s fine, for the Sharks.
Her blues.
A treacherous kiss finds my lips.
Where are we?
According to the informant, caught.
Dancing, wrapped around each other like good poetry.
Where are we?
In between rounds, putting her blues in motion on the dance floor, hiding from all tomorrows.



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