11:11 |
Nikki Senecal |
I get on the bus and don’t say bye to you.
Instead, I think of all the times I walked through the park
at two in the morning.
Or when you used to live across the hall
and you’d come on the back porch.
And June when you drove over in half the time
to my parents’ house.
California dreaming.
Your twin in Brooklyn.
Your other twin in my bed.
Vacations away from each other.
Sometimes I wish they would last longer,
or not exist at all.
Instead, I think of all the times I walked through the park
at two in the morning.
Or when you used to live across the hall
and you’d come on the back porch.
And June when you drove over in half the time
to my parents’ house.
California dreaming.
Your twin in Brooklyn.
Your other twin in my bed.
Vacations away from each other.
Sometimes I wish they would last longer,
or not exist at all.
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