Tides

Bad Moves

When you saw it for the first time
The beauty of the moment passed while you
Skimmed application guidelines
Tides rush ten thousand feet below
Where the hope for a reunion
Felt like waiting out the continental drift
A barrier to be outlived

It’s morning where I land
We’re texting from the customs line
To dull the ache of being left behind
Make do with what we can
A funeral in family threads and low-res JPEGs
Regret in each reply

A story told in headlines
And visa stamps denied

When you saw it for the first time
The condensation all grey and blue
The mist on the coast line
Ten thousand feet below
Where the prospect for reunion
Felt like waiting out the continental drift
A planetary movement
And the weight of displacement

While over the Atlantic
The story plays itself over again
A crowd of faces chanting
“Take back control” and all that shit
When freedom’s only granted
To those who have the means to buy back in
We’ll wait for continental drift

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