and then what will we do?
Spendthrifts splayed under
the winding red moon—in our teens
we found only satisfying
escapes—now we cast
cement past our vanishing,
something will catch
For lack of trying. Our family
reborn in new questions asked
and the passed times suggest
their memories hurdle the horizon
Land in the palms of those lucky enough
to beg with upturned hands.
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