green grapes

it was fun for a while
hypnotically exchanging ideas,
comparing, consenting,
popping out from a yard of junk
into a world of here and the blue yonder
but now,
with his fingers,
he's drifting inch by inch,
on a crimson boat,
away into a distant dream
it's another day,
another way of accepting,
shaking on never speaking,
never touching.

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