Song of a ukelele
Whenever I used to think of you,
I always remembered the picture you drew on my hand –
you know, the one of the astronaut playing
a ukelele – and how we played mermaids
in the ocean in June,
but now thoughts of you (or, rather,
of us) stray from our shenanigans
and turn instead to the dark days when
we fell into uniformity,
and nothing we did could distinguish us
from every other name listed alongside
us in the phone book.
I miss the days when mistakes were easy
but unique, when the sea’s rolling waves
were just from mermaids dancing, when
the song of a ukelele was all
we’d ever need.
Yours with song,
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