Yes, of Course

The purple mist, the dewy grass, the fuzzy jazz played on the radio

I threw into my little fighter plane, to shoot you down with smokey bullets

You’d fought me back–we’d fought for hours, flying circles above our roads

The mixed-up potions, the charring horses, our expensive chariots

rode undeserving, though always knowing, just never minding

I crawled into my alter-self, you’d followed suit

The made-up sushis, the slurring words,

and spontaneous combating

I do truly wish, to indulge, on a horse!

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