Rob Schackne #735 - don't just remember the middle of the fuckin' dream

we pass by later   mostly silent
come from   god knows where
the money in our pockets gone
spent on pleasures   what we wanted
salty juices   all still fresh

don’t just remember the middle of the fuckin' dream

climbing down the sea cliff
to the bogey-hole   where we swam
the feel for water drew us in
now I know   that no one leaps
until they are   propelled by sorrow