once you lived in Lisbon
so much more than just a summer
built pyramids of pleasures past, and
those that did say never
faster, faster, faster cried the waning
wake and tether
indicative of folks who study lives and
loves of others
& it's not that I keep doing this
over and over
it's that i'm not doing that
over and over
never subverted
over and over
simply not mentioned
i used to be Algerian, from far
external texts
stood in the arms of an ocean deeper
than what we see here
worked hard for these marks, and never
surrender
scathed from bow to stern, &
recalling we both were
& the background sounds bleed
bigger, awaiting recognition
all our backs bow thicker, stood on by
some past conviction
interlocking fingers, as if conscience
was cohesive
not building fortress around, rather
lush gardens within them
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