I brew trouble
miles from you, miles from me,
hoping the vapors will infiltrate the both of us.
I seem to forget that the wind shifts
all on its own accord.
I can't control it.
I can't stop it.
I can't convince it.
The vapors rise and fall,
and move in and out,
from window to window.
Poison to one.
Pleasure to the other.
But none for me
and none for you.
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