the day is there
bright / clear / classic
like Es are there
ambiguous / vestigial
at the end of words
the sun stencilled shapes
on the chester drawers
are
softly adrift
with
packed lunch sadness
& i shovel on the optimism
like ketchup
on dry mash
on dry mash
working with the bones of it
the doom of it
the habit & faith & light of it
in the predicted ash
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