The House That I Built

computers help inform a documentation
of every moment’s pulse, glow
in the dark, continue on refrigerator, it
is possible the road will appear up-ahead, but
until then it’s Sunday, and clothes
hang by the neck of appreciation from family, you
should see the backyard, and
the cans of soup poured down the drain, the
cleaning that waits for the night when it can
storm silently and build sandwiches out of turkey, neighbors
sometimes hear the costumes, as they
disembark from their past-life amnesia and shout
Good Night louder than a movie theatre, outside
where spiders roam and cats meander

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