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gripped by a slight
panic over the mundane

cold pasta and she’s
saying
don’t take it too personal

we were coming around
picking legs off
insects to
give us some speed

got me a medal for
a golden mile
trip between standing
and my knees
a trip standing still for me

when the house
is behind us
she plays Elton John on
her mother’s piano
overlooking the river and a
fight for meaning

and she stretches her legs
sharpens her saw
saying
isn’t this the right cut