rough tweed
hearing father’s voice
in mine
with every hair
left in the brush
a bit more Buddhist
rough tweed
hearing father’s voice
in mine
with every hair
left in the brush
a bit more Buddhist
afterward
asking
if he’s married too
on the treadmill —
comparing
heart attacks
I have fulfilled
my mother’s dream —
childless
glacial grooves slipping into the back pew
after the party
all the people who didn’t come
to mind
addiction takes another holiday
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