Up, quick,
into the warm
spring gleam
of a March sky,
our laughter rose
like the kites we ran
into the wind.

"Mine's higher
than yours,"
you teased.

"They look like
Imperial Palace
flags."

We sat in the
grass beneath
their flight,
shared dreams
of building
our temple of we
over the quiet
agony of I.

The day turned
hazy with dusk,
too soon. We furled
our kites in surrender.

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