I found an epilogue on
an apple core constructed
from just five unspoken words;
and it would grow again.
The letters were punched perfect
like the tree knew how to type
itself together.

I get nothing out of eating now
my stomach like a plastic bag
stretched almost to the point
where it is melted inward
purely by the gravity.

I’ve stood out in the parking lot
waiting for any of them to come get me,
but after all the hours of making
monuments to memories,
I do not notice all the buzzards
lurk in semi circle patterns like a tribe.

The coffee mugs in the cafeteria
are faded and you cannot read
the comic strips that once
surrounded all the chaos in the cups.
Another day of waiting hours
for the waking up and bare feet
all so old to hit the floor that’s built
to trip us up so some of us will fall.

Another clueless face they staple
to the cork board centric wall
as a reminder that there’s only
one way home.
A single lie convincing everyone
that they’re alone in spite
of all their neighbors
who ignore what they’ve been
hoping for as just another
way to dull the disappointment.

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