Every morning I let it all go.
Then it starts coming back,
sometimes blurred, sometimes
stuttering, sometimes suspended
on a linear dartboard that
I try to impale myself upon.
Even when the skylight is leaking,
I look for the peephole
that will ensnare my vision
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I remember the hour you stole time from me and here in these late pages I try to collect back the kisses in the parking lot that erased my history next to that green F-150 when you became my future.