Shoulder to shoulder,
we leaned back
against vodka-varnished evening skies.
Our songs flamed
in the last puffs
of cigarette butts,
our dreams soared
on a wisp of marijuana,
we staked our hearts
on the glittering shards
of broken beer bottles.
In the green distance,
a peacock screamed with laughter.
A hare streaked across
the motorcycle headlight,
a horde of wild boars waited
patiently
for the football team to pass
before they crossed the road.
In the green distance,
lovers’ bodies sculpted
moon-moistened rocks
high above the still water.
And on VC Rock,
our dreams danced around the bonfire,
words tripped merrily into poetry,
flashes of light into films.
Tonight, you stretch your legs
and lean back beneath the stars
While here, my cigarette smoke
breaks against the concrete walls,
the steel rods and cement sacks
obscuring the sky.
There is spirit here, and fire
dancing unquenched at the lips
and fingertips
of one petite girl
with stormclouds in her eyes.
There are voices here, and dreams
flickering in the cold night
and among the myriad hues of day.
There are fights without flags,
firebrands lined against citadels of ice,
and of course there are lives
and loves and songs,
but never, never the same
as the warmth of your hands in mine
and the sound of all our voices
raised aloft in tuneless song
beneath the vodka-varnished sky
on VC Rock.
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