this (Monday Poem-Day)

living as if death doesn’t matter or as if it matters a lot as if each moment each breath is the only thing we can have we can hold this piece of paper in the gutter this tickle of laughter from an unknown child this brushing of elbows this stroke of your face this beer with its sharp taste this thrum of voices this sparrow this pavement this dirt oh lay me down in it let me die to it let me dissolve into this moment of moments this moment of moments this moment this moment this …

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