awakening to
the sound of your
voices calmly giving
direction at the end
of the world
from the front
stoop, i suddenly
have a bone to
pick with you –
why now and why
when the bedsheets
have found that
uneasy summertime
balance between
cozy and cool?
trying to take
one last drag
of sleep’s silver
screen cannot
undo the effects
of this blunt
resentment
.
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