Just This

a car drives near by, I can
hear it from the open window, tomorrow
memorial day race, what will become of his memory

left outside of a conversation
exiled to a singular within-held chamber-of-air
this palace an execution upon differences defining the past

still contains electric charges
fierce but tucked to build a compost
slow the decomposition of intense magnifying glass

begins

but what is steady in a daily commitment
when uncertainty is the carpet
and the window talks of air

easy to loose track
and fall to a wayside
as the train of a moment continues
with or without
passenger spiders

many legs
anticipating a catch of wind

necessity rings a cold towel dry
laundry in the spinner
happening all at once

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