brief liberation
a freedom from envy
anchored to dread and the truth
sober to the ultimate revelation that nothing can matter
in a world of parking lots and metamorphosis
there’s no meaning beyond
the words we say
and the time we mark
choosing to make meaning
I buy it at the shop
all wrapped in cellophane
it lasts a while
until I see you in my sleep
and you make sense and matter more
and plastic is plastic
you hold my hand
and waking up
you’re gone again
so far
so cold
and I am here
and you are not
in a world of now and then
where nothing can matter
I take the stairs
they never end
my nose is cold
I’ll never kiss your face again.
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