My glasses lying before me,
can’t or won’t discuss the
weekend, as a means of
escape.
From lousy. From
who cares about it,
the movie with
candy and popcorn,
the slow walk thru
Chinatown to
remember the
good times.
I got your words.
Words like lying.
I care, too, on a
treadmill of
excellent mean-
ing. A small
latté asleep on
top of my cellphone.
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