JANUARY 8
Sifting through that same collection
of tired LPs, glassy eyed and gaunt.
I know yogurt isn’t enough sustenance
in any of life’s stages, let alone now.
But it’s all I can eat anymore
since my stomach was ripped
from its innards so insouciantly.
How is that when LPs with their
dust and scratches and dog ears
can induce such a fugue-like state?
So as to rob these afternoons
of the real tasks needing doing.
(trailing off in afterthought...)
A letter that suddenly appears,
as if the sky were dropping
forgotten cues and tape marks,
thins the atmosphere somewhat,
like pressing into the eyes
to see stars that aren’t there.
Cold cups of coffee appear
in the various places
where yesterday’s projects
and last years aspirations
explode onto the carpet.
Scattered nuts and bolts,
used zip ties and dead wires.
When you step on ‘em barefooted
they can actually hurt.
like lost LEGO’s.
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