Summer Shirts Stained by heat cool in a dark tank,
wet and without complaint.
Tumble dry, low heat.
The grass always comes back, without fail.
With or without anyone there.
Scabbed hooves push dust high into the sky,
as the abode of the worms grows then moves...
only to start anew.
Now i feel the music in my wrists-
and it needs to stop.
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