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Meet You At The Place

I want to rewind to the part before our hearts shattered all to hell and we knew any better or anything at all and just sit here at the sno-cone stand until our tongues turn purple and the sun melts into the pond. We can feed the geese and that one cute turtle and you can tell me again about your plans to save the world and I can rattle on about the hole in my flip flop and the price of prom dresses and all the other inconsequential life or death conundrums while you push me on the kiddy swing into nightfall. And then we'll just skip all that stuff about lacerated hearts and stripped-bare souls and all the other minor nuisances of world-destroying loss and just end this thing like they do on television - four easy steps. I'll kiss you hard and angry on the mouth and do a slow burn like maybe 10 degrees toward somewhere else and then shoot you the bird cuz that's how we do as I drive off in my truck to become someone else's nightmare. Or dream girl. Can we do that? OK, cool. Meet you at the place.

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