but when you’re murmuring in my ear
it’s blurry
how was your day?
smoking and sitting
eating fancy, a guitar to strum, a porch and an old dog
habit
that unavoidable hollowness
of jazz and cards,
of smelling your breath,
of looking you solidly in the eyes
of burning skin
filtering words: a sophistication I cannot enjoy
when I’m sitting far away
it’s clear
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