what I was going to say,
like it's gotten away.
I find myself
lost in conversation,
temporarily
in daydream,
thinking perhaps
about the space
on our crooked front walk
where weed breaks concrete
with unmistakable beauty,
then the neighbor's wood gate
squeaks before it slams
and I remember...
this morning as you slept,
you exhaled loudly. I thought
it was a message.
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