A martini has two olives.
This car will run out of gas. The neighbors yell out their window. My cat has studied, cautious eyes. I could lay down And close mine. But where would it get me? An inverted balance. A breath lifting up Into the Ominous, Contained by a corner And a buzzing sense of self. A vase in the hallway holds A bouquet of purpose. Purple, distinctive, purpose To make me notice My own, reflecting. Once in awhile, This makes sense. Now and then, I get it. But mostly, I roll back under The surface And answer the doorbell When it rings. 4/28/22
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