there's no need to wait for now
only - turn the page to else, if you need to keep moving
orange juice and icy sidewalks
sympathy at yet another repeat -
deleted
keep flipping pages to rearrange the upnext calendar
a whirr of sound and drowning gasps -
throat to clear and names to call:
ours are all the wrecking balls that lead to something fresh
bleak as the gray and bare as afterfleece skin
echos of the coming still too far off to catch
train having left and the tracks pulled up
(or not yet laid?)
rearranged sand storms the hourglass
tips across apart a beach
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