The ruby-throated hummingbird can fly
For twenty-hour trips without a rest by
Doubling their fat with bonbons with larks,
And we can’t seem to leave where our car parks
To complete those two hundred thousand yards
In our lap of the hidey-hole shipyards
Before your rehearsals this year begin
And the makeup girls take away your chin.
And would you remember the drunk tank pink
In the scar that healed from the icy rink
On the left turn of your cheek from habit?
It is the same colour in my Pink Rabbit.
And the beaches clumping under the bridge,
Cracking up when we stopped along the ridge
As you crawled out with one elbow and toed
A bramble leant across the winding road.
Since we cursed the town for its cobalt eyes
And the teeth it took from the butterflies
The light has a way of skipping our house,
Making it tough when I untie your blouse.
And riding the sky is a happy sun,
Your lips were scarlet, and my smoke is spun
From a similar shade of country red
As our little sports car locked in the shed.
Written by Jacob Horrocks
Art by Olivia Mannella
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