All is well.

At some point you’d think
looking at your freshly mowed
lawn:
I am truly, truly
alone.
I’ve left my Selves
And the cities
I’ve learned to build
I’ve lost it all and I am
Finally, no one.
And you’d nod
to the faint call
from your
kitchen
Turn around to kiss
her beautiful mouth
Hold
her mysterious hands
You help her set the table
before saying
Grace.

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