10:44 a.m. - 2009-05-25
clean clothes can't walk on their own.
your unmoving clothes i cram in white garbage bags, clean and crumpled, throw outside the door. years of those thankful daydreams, what i never had to feel, but to feel them just in case they become a deal, they become very real, today, and the cool wind coming through the window and the sounds, the neighbor's weed eater, the leaves' breeze, day sounds,
memory entry ways open pleasantries to come, (you) to go
( please, please go
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