Our love took off a 777,
lucky triplet numbers,
then split like a headache
never will even by a pill.
Our love was a moist towel
on a transatlantic flight
burned hot in our hands
then quickly took on a chill.
we were miles from ordinary
then became too old and weary
as our bleary eyes met
in the starry sky kismet
and fell thirty-thousand feet.
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