full belly

Early autumn in a heated room, with the windows open it hovers above me
words float through it with a thick line of dark green, a cycle, pattern, rich and steady
but going nowhere, escaping the pattern, attempting to on the other side,
a closing, a reoccurrence of something that happened a year ago,
repeating, repeating on the gravel now while pressing firmly against the wet leaves,
It’s brighter in this moment, almost like a childhood memory
Saturday morning with dad kind of light with a dark green coat
heating through another, heating by standing temporarily near a campfire,
the dark green touches that too
It is early fall but it feels historic, walking through the path that’s comfortable
but ever so slightly skewed through round framed glasses, looking at a man who with drunken encounters have only occurred
Greet and wave shyly, grasp words, attach, pull, and find nothing to give
but loose sentences and hairs on a worn in dark green sweater, let us talk later when everything has shed
His eyes are in focus and then shift towards the left

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