The Neon Sandlot

The sky’s that blue, that
One shade of blue you’re always looking for,
And the evening runs in streaks of neon
And cars passing, strung together like
Lights on a pavilion near the beach which
Can be heard from here, and seen around the
Corner, and where dark waves beat against
White sand in shadows under city stars,
And over dreams of people burning
To become their own suns,
And you —

You think I’m pulling away

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