Pointed.

It’s pointless to believe in anything
besides the beating of your own heart
and that the sun will set
at some point and rise again.
New York City won’t
sleep and all those sleepy
little towns
will oversleep their alarm clocks
and forget to move about.
It’s pointless to believe
in anything except that the singers
will sing
and the writers will write
and everyone
will fall in and out of love.
It’s pointless to believe
in anything except that
kids will ask the best questions and adults won’t
know the answers
that cars will be driven
and cars will crash
and people will lose and spend
money like a drug.
It’s pointless to believe in anything
except for you and me.

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