feet on a second-choice desk

he sketched his laces poorly

found myself bending to possibility

downed the last of the juice nobody

could help (he could wash clothes

he should fix the lawns) instead

‘thrift’ / out-of-state everything plays

in your eyes: the colour of crushing grapes

statements debunked & graphical flux

reality is in the wood smell the

lead smell the graphite &

i’m like a thornbury flea market

older but interested in nothing

where have moments gone

do you think about things

what are questions

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