Happy Morning; listless thoughts of
jail only in my dreams, my shoulders knot
gathering the news, gathering the news in my head and making
sense of what others made sense of in their head, gathering the news
tasting your blanket face, smelling your red hair like we did under
prehistoric trees;
craned with sympathy and feeling our war,
branches wrapped up to remember us, sad and wet,
if you are talking, I hear and look
I feel too small for my clothes, suddenly
that star is a plane
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