on Springfield

Hapag-Lloyd/crates/industrial coatings/the mentally disabled in hi-vis/my foot, the seat across/canvas falling apart/ you / “6 minutes ago” /bushes lined with red like lamb-blood showers

.                        face to face date configuration but platonic my nails tapping on the table they’re face down spider fingers I never travel for you, only crash land, only last resort, end of the night / evening / day, never specific or alone “pick up your drunk ass again”, that’s so romanticized? crawling into your bed at 2 am my anxiety like alarms, cuckoos out in approximately 45, you-me-the pillows, we reach for privates in darkness and conclude, i reach for cigarettes, reach for the door handle to your verandah. i think i’ve always been trying to leave

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