oceanside
how does it feel to know one day this will end?
we were sitting oceanside
your fingers digging into the sand,
my hand over yours,
not a care in the world
then you asked me,
how does it feel to know
one day this will end?
one day
and the memory of you
and me and everything
we are will fade like a road
bending up into a cloudy horizon
what if the sun were to explode
and kill us all
and none of this will have
meant anything at all
well?
I looked into your eyes and said,
well damn, that’s deep—
and boulder heavy
are you trying to trigger some
existential crises
of some sort or something?
because if you are it’s working
overtime — only to find it
swallowing my mind
in a cascade of the
opposite of fluoride —
high like I’m on an anandamide
fuelled ride across the skies
in disguise as someone who flies
like Icarus
and then she sighs
just a thought
just a thought
