Inflame.

I had your number – saw you last summer.

I dreamt of you riding a bicycle.

You were Canada, chasing your dreams

12 hours apart or more so it seems.

Stayed up to catch the 9am dew,

So we could have conversations around your schedule.

We talked about sadness and psychology,

Knowing you felt like a real prodigy.

Through tiny screens I saw aplenty,

Tree, beaches and the vast sea.

I remember you made me a promise,

To sneak in where carousels are – in a theme park’s premise.

It’s been years now we’ve drifted afar,

But I’ve never forgotten what you said in the car.

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