sitting in the shower. pretending it is rain.
pretending that you are here. from the right
distance everything has a way of blurring. the
oak in ohio looks a lot like the oak back home.
proof. elsewhere two young lovers stumble upon
another oak. stare at the carving in its trunk. and.
think oh we must have been here before.
to measure time we must cut the tree. count its rings.
patiently. like. when i said i’d be back before we ever noticed.
i overestimated the memory of a sound.
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