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0) Penciled expectations shift
on pharmaceutical notepads
like alphabet soup. And I stare,
dyslexic.

1) Stick it on the fridge you said
and I licked blue cotton
candy on the flying trapeze bare
feet kicking, marinated
in shell-crusted silica and Kosher salt.

2) Standard shipping’s fine yes
of course, I’m fine. I am
great white shark on a boat gasping,
epileptic. They tag my dorsal and fish
for the needle broken inside me.

3) Call the dentist – pediatric specialist well,
that’s obvious. Like Icarus. I melted
my dream seduced by stars wearing nothing
but birthday candles from nineteen ninety six.

4) Stick it on the fridge you kissed
me on my forehead crumpling promises
on paper like fall leaves under sequined boots
of a girl I once knew.

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