Some days are fat, lucky
rabbit feet—

nuclear green for a man-
made assurance

tiny, bright limbs swing
on backpack ends

your hand, clasped around
a sound—as if you

could have it  


I await perfection and

watch for it willing to

cast off dead shrubs
in my pruning

this is not good soil;

it is prone to frost  

sunshine sickness of
the daily trudged up

for a what’s-it

and a cup of coffee

found memory,
found the shock

of compassion a wave

brot in a new set

of shells, skeletons

awaiting an
eager search—

scrolling image-nasty texts
with a knack

for identifying clickbait—a live

auction for a slice of ham,
a Living Social for

family funeral services, having

a LinkedIn  

your other shelves
catching onto the lingo

—too late

on the inside, we’re

INNANET eavesdropping,

sending discount
panties dwn spam

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