this love is not
explosive it’s erosive it’s
sinking slowly like that
cabin in the dells leaning
every day a little more
toward those magnetic hills i never
made up my mind whether you
were the hills and i was the house
or vice versa i guess really we were
both reluctant tourists
(at the house on the rock we
saw six thousand
santa figurines we
rode the carousel we
walked into the infinity room and
i could see into forever
but you could only
feel it swaying in the wind)
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