cell phone calls as they pile drive
to a café meet a friend and the next moment
carries on its back a giant with a lotus hat and the
blur of time as it sweeps passed as a pen was used then dried
of ink the sidewalk becomes street cleaned and the glass
I could talk about all day
outdated and yesterday haunted with a house full of futuristic
walls seams of a drift-wood without laughter how would
dawn occur to break through a down-cast window look
up at the ceiling cut through the harder edges of coffee helps
dried out slug of a crawling heap of schedules and always
on point and remembering where any of this goes presently
the mourning of a knife to the skin of tomorrow, finally resting

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