The year was already tired
from moving in all directions,
wanting to rest on the porch with tea
before finishing the week.
Thinking boiled over and scalded our hands;
determination, polka-dotted underwear,
obscene if not for it’s cute ridiculousness;
conversations dispensed in a Coke machine,
tickling our noses if we drank it too fast.
Everyone ached on both sides:
the infinite awful and the undrowning hope.
What fear!? we asked, all kinds of burdens
springing unintended from our nostrils.
Fear is us, what fear have we?
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