let them have their prams
their toys / their politics
let them cosplay leader
in the swollen twilight
their fingers on the banks
& the button for the bombs
ive given up on the bastards
more times . . . i lost count
i only need
a perfect pencil
& enough quiet
to write a true sentence down
in this hard won bubble
of love & lunch & lexapro
baby birds learning at the feeder
cats making loaves on the lawn
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