sometimes
for a
wobbled
moment
i am outside of me
i am separate & undone
like i nudge-shoved me
out
my
own
way
~
& my meat is an echo
tailing me
like a cop
like a jumping stylus
like buyers remorse
& i am elmos fire . . .
an essay on a toetag . . .
it is not
a vivid picture
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