i am an intruder, looking out upon a magical scene.
dusk softens hard edges and i see (i see)
shimmering, glimmering lights
that fit within the curvature that is my perspective.
i assume that reality cannot be this whimsical,
and yet this is no figment of my imagination.
perhaps it is in limbo that we see ephemeral things.
tonight (tonight), i dance with lightning bugs.
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