matchbox

a match is burning
in your head
while
you are struck

alter-egos
push their owners
in wheelchairs
through the
triumphal arc

storage space = self

red eyes of a thermometer
hover over the bridge

dusk

you go from room
to room

you watch TV

while you're eating
space
sneaks up on you
like a shark
from beneath the skull

you wash dishes

you smoke a cigarette
numb
to the sound of your fingertips
curling

you peel a banana
not finding
a hint
on how to proceed

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