Run out into the streets,
Maskless, free, right onto an aeroplan,
Into cafes for meets,
Into the arms of a long-unseen friend,
Just like the good old days,
Back and forth each day into an office,
Smooshed up together like sardines on trains,
In clothes you've not worn for seven days straight,
Midst a thirty day run,
Day drinking the hell out of the weekdays,
Like a world champion?
If you'd that chance,
What would you pay for it?
Undistracted from life's first world problems,
Of tweaking until you get the right fit.
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