NaPoWriMo, day twenty five

(photo credit here)

we slip inside a box
a mile above the streets,
flying up and sinking down
in circles,
like hands of a clock
painting roller coaster paths for stars to
race along
above our carnival ride.

headlights shoot through the city below us,
but these new heights don’t frighten me;
it’s the best angle
to read the stories being written
along freeways and galaxies
to the rhythm of our sleepy,
neon-tinted breath.


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