I wonder why your legs no longer run- how you taught yourself to walk to the dead end and back
with one maniacal-lead-foot.
What is agony if it is not observation and ambivalence, the expense of sheer joy [Sun-streaked Daisies].
Hide from my light in faded polaroids, bent and obscured from view, a forgotten hair on a rag thin pillowcase.
Does my peripheral existentialism drown us both
in separate kiddie pools?
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