the world has slowed
like one of those dreams
where you can’t run no matter your need
forced slow motion while inside
your heart is a 33 set at 45

the gods chaperone to keep it so
sending whipping winds to freeze our joints
lobbing the moon at my head
knocking the stars from my eyes
emptying buckets on our frivolity
sending us scampering for dry

like kids at the dance
forced to take it slow
furtive touches belying fevered thoughts
and I am glad of it
prone to hitting fast forward
life to soon becomes past episodes

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