Sunday Suburbia

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Tonight you fell asleep in my arms.

The rhythm of your breathing
from time to time
finding its synchronicity with mine.

The images of the two entwined
develop and devolve
under the flickering light of the screen opposite
a string of words and images flashing…flooding.

And in that, you under my arm sinking into the elusive oblivion
leading the way as that last bit of gin makes its way past my gullet.

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