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rarefied air. Poem by Melora
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The moon is a monocle
And condensation obscures its vision
It can see us in slits, cracks, and crevices
Where our fingers have traced through
Mingling breaths of
Rarefied air
It views us through capsules
Capsizing where condensation ceases to congeal
Catalyzed where our faces are concealed
Behind panes of rarefied air.
The next poster thinks poetic thoughts, sometimes writes them down,
and hopefully will share them with us, joyfully.
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