After a night of self sabotage,
a determination to obliterate the day, I woke in a thin sheet, later than I was supposed to,
to the sound of the already birds. In summer,
I love to join them that way,
like walking into a bar where your friends have saved you a seat.
Colin with his backpack on, standing to greet me.
Julia’s laugh as I kiss the back of her neck.
If only I could enact the common wisdom.
The strong money tree, I sometimes forget to water, trembles with the blinds in a breeze.
I’ve grown so fond of it, the tree.
When I wake & there are no birds, or Julia’s gone,
it is here, in this studio apartment,
in one of the three windows that open to nothing special: a wall.
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