Calming politics

Wake with half a croissant.
Drive in the car to the place.
Up the stairs, turn on the light, settling deep in a maroon chair. Familiar faces calm the politics. I’ll eat fried chicken and keep a black phone company. Green street signs watch me pass with jealous eyes, whirling around day after week after routine Tuesday night dinner. Dishes. Trash. Kids on furniture. All of it together changing piece by part. Forgetting years. Wrenched ankle. Death looms like a memory of regret. Sunrise, moon time, send me searching for smells in my mind.
It’s beautiful, dammit.
All of it.
Faith leaves a lump of coal
I’ll swallow in minutes, days, driving, walking in steps
up stairs.


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