Sunday:
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Dark water draining north, the heat
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Swells and bursts like plague.
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Sunday:
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Ever-so-faint slow tambourine
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Glides onward toward the grave.
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Who drew the line?
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Who drew the line between you and me?
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Who drew the line
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that everyone sees?
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Darling,
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Lake Pontchartrain is haunted:
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Bones without names, photographs framed in reeds.
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Darling,
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What blood our veins are holding.
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The overpass frozen, fires ablaze at sea.
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Who drew the line?
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Who drew the line that cuts to the skin, buries me in?
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Tell me who drew the line.
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Darling, don't close your eyes.
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(Lie as darkness hardens.
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Lie of our reunion.
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Oh lie if God is sleeping.
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Oh I believe you now.)
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Darling,
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Lake Pontchartrain will cradle me,
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and all you left behind.
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Listen:
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Ever-so-faint slow tambourine
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is marching back through time.
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-----------------
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Pontchartrain
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Vienna Teng |