a low whir
existing in the gaps between
our limbs and tax brackets
our hair follicles and automobiles
pulsing as we blink. at night
we decide to stretch out
at the Strip to
find last minute Christmas
gifts. a light rain hums
and drips on the
cracked glass of our
black stock sedan. the lots
creep and crack with
SUVs and hatchbacks. in
the bookstore, souls
circumvent each other. all
fingernails and scarves,
eyebrows and credit cards. we
meet a cashier with a red face,
her chatter is without pause, she
smiles as we nod and soak
in the vibrations, an oasis
each spur, clack and
buzz, another connection
to one another, skin cells
and cul-de-sacs– Earth,
life and death
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