CLXXXIII.

Sometimes I think I'd like to lay down in the streets
Let the city lights sweep over me and try to fall asleep.
I'd lay beneath the high rises, as if they were bedsheets
And cut my teeth on dreams so grand, I pray my breath to keep.

Three A.M. I want you here with me.
We can count the white divider lines,
The way I used to count blades of grass in my backyard.
I know it's not much, and I know I'm not much,
With stars just above our outstretched arms
The only thing that matters is how our chests rise and fall.