But when I hold my breath under every
overpass
or bridge
or tunnel
anywhere a wish might be hiding
like a cavity that has not yet begun to
ache
My mind's eye returns to
the air fresheners and the candles,
the florescent lights blinking,
the way I laughed at my own un-made mind,
and
how easy it would be to get used to
that particular brand of exasperation in a man’s eyes.
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