these coconut-ice sunsets
when the air is pink
and crisp and still
dessicated chill
and you can’t wait
to split some wood
crunch newspapers
and last night’s chocolate wrappers
and empty 6-pack holders
to strike a light
and strike me lucky
watch the flames
rise orange
scarlet yellow
in the grill
spit and crackle
frozen toes uncurl
to warm
and watch the stars
blink twinkly
on the window sill
of ghosty moonlit sky
and count your blessings
you’re not homeless
stretched out
on some cardboard pavement mat
that winter air
at 6pm is sharp and clean
and moist
and crystal clear
and it feels like home
like summer never does
like way back when
safe and carefree
home
with mum and dad.
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