there's something about it
that makes the light of morning
feel more real.
the thud of a coffee cup and
the heater turning on
and
silence, too.
there's the soft dampness
of hair drying,
the texture of a dog's fur,
your
own body.
how it creaks with the chair,
yielding but unbreaking,
toes crackling from years
of being team captain.
a
smoky throat.
the hollow feeling in the chest,
followed by a rising -
remembering sugar,
remembering salt -
ghostly tastes, pictures of
other
people.
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