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OK moving on



Will I look like him if I found a leather jacket just like the one?

The many times I have to convince myself on the way back home. 

The dreading hours that have no particular smell. untracable. 

The skin I learned to love. 

My toes that get a tan. 

Family business.

Jar lids and hands.

Payment requests.

Memory incidents and ink accidents.

Poetry. 

Door knobs.

White kaftans.

Two scoops of ice cream. 

Nuts.
Eating and going.

Papers for rolling.

Papers for writing.

Wooden tables.

Taste of metal.

Slippers.

Double pillow.

Sound rooms.

Jacket pocket burdens.

Tattoos.

Pedestrians.

Funeral cars.

Steps. 

Things that don’t and eventually go together.

So many steps.


Is this how moving on feels? 




03.22