Short Poem No.35

It really wasn’t that big of a deal …
the reflective foil was crimped under
the Polynesian glass we ordered and it
scratched, so she sent it back.

“The ocean can be as deep as sleep sometimes.”
We dropped through the atmosphere.
He couldn’t understand how she was still flying.

The chair (sort of) cuts off the circulation in my legs at times.
(… if two milk crates were a chair at all)

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