what you come home to: sleep
the space where chasing meets bounds and
we line up the cool dark with watermelon
grinding rinds and avocado elegance
stations of the lost
screen glow as the pages wait
covered and numbered toward drowsy collection
mentioning pulls the scene too close to reality
here we are in a mirror, here we capture the air
to coast, though – too blank, too underread
shine a light – a softish glow – and turn in tuned in
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