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Written January 17, 2010

On a stable plateau
 of complacency
 too-cool security
—stripped!

I’ve hit the concrete for you.

Gravity’s not responsible, but
damn! That impact
is your clincher

(if you ever wanted it).

I keep climbing up only to slip
and let the acceleration
catch the breath in my throat again.

I fall too fast to tell
what I want
from you.

No parachute, no harness,
nothing but my hiccuping voice
to verbalize what’s on
my dizzy mind and
in my racing heart.

Steady my shaking and
provide an answer that
keeps me at some height
we want to be.

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