The nicotine in my brain,
the tar in my lungs. Swirling
embers swiped too slowly from
my jacket; grounded in the seconds
they live, forever marking what is touched.
Lost, like hello's in conversations between
old friends. A fractured compass,
dancing needle under creased glass,
folding away any type of direction.

Dizzy as my relatives on New Year's Eve,
with the stillness of river rocks.
Like swaying boats caught in the eye,
of a hurricane. As innocent as fingertips
pushing pawns into the checkered line of fire.
The unwanted poison of a blowfish
faulted in its own friendly nature.
Like the get well cards I pushed away,
secretly wanting them to be pushed back.
But like crumpled love letters,
hidden in grandma's shoebox,
never were really found again.


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