The ever-present monsters / soon catch up and A MAN / slowly disappears as the machine utters / a whine another MAN / appears the process repeats
It is the bed you have been resting in
for years. Someone is making coffee
and expecting you to rise.
The cold black
waters of Maine; earthy and lax Mid-
Atlantic; obscene Technicolor
heaven in the South. No partner, no
daughter swinging my hand, singing.
I’ve been walking
all my life.
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