gas music inaudible in the kitchen.
you’re there, more silent even
than the little bell-jar.
as for me, I’m facing a difficult homecoming.
I’d rather be standing beside a pond, eyes fixed on
a mirror so dark,
so happily pongy
that I will now start to laugh, loud and uncontrollable.
everything is so immediately different.
also the void, that so easily lures me to your railing.
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