Come over, why don't you? And rest with us a bit. I mean rester, stay. It's late, you say?
Never mind that. And all our lights are off? Just follow the sound of our voices.
Walk in on our eleventh-hour arguing; sit in on our undressed-rehearsal bargaining scene.
We're easy to get to. There's an avenue du Parc bus stop at the side of our bed.
Shush, the air-breaks sigh. There-there, the engine groans. The muffler is exhausted.
We all are. Our sleep undermined. Our flesh underlined...
It's the bamboo blinds. They let the whole night through.
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