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A hot minute and a long cool down.
Confusing tenure with loyalty.
A buzzing in my hip;
Ants pouring from the walls.
A night of sleep from left to right.
A new low for an aging country.
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This is one more instance
of the slow slippage of time
and the erosion that
befalls the night.
soaks into your bones
and marks you
as a traitor.
The stars don’t return
and your signal
melds with the noise.
The sun has
turned its back
and the warmth
you knew for so long
you will never feel again.