arrives at 9
AM /doesn’t even say hello
powerful urge to shop online
lengthy
wishlists
don’t cut no mustard/i crave PRODUCT
packaged in postal brown
to fall
thru
the
door
and i want one of them massive bags of crisps
to munch thru like a machine
i'll
feel bad and over salted
lobes
clogged with carb
tiny white pill holds black at bay
but
smiles
are forced and from habit and coffee
i relax into them with effort and decaff and herb
but
the
fog
is heavy/rolls in on the sound of horns
not touching any bottles i write small poems
in
the
lean times about
almost
nothing
at
all
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