we end with a hug and i
pierce through the empty red yellow green city
back home. they left the signs on for me.
these will be artifacts someday
just like the open book, and i am juggled,
i exist to be misperceived. so
i sit at the intersection for five cold minutes,
they were good minutes, which i laugh at later.
two people drive past like needles sewing
straight through the huge fabric of the lack of land.
i have nothing new to say, but i want to be heard.
i am dissolving fast into sugar. we are perfect
examples of what we want to be:
i want to test myself, you see me as this witness
of how hard it is to stay awake. but we try.
we want to try. others want us to know
that much has happened. we start with a hug,
and we end with whatever we want to
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