mere speculation

i peeled
a banana
this morning
as though
it knew something
i didn’t

my petunias
shoulders hang
from the long hot summer
they take my water
with third world thirst
knowing the gesture
will not save them

purgatory is lovely
this time of year
i should have hired a sherpa

the great struggle of my generation
is dawning
the cock soon too crow
our eyes yet unopened

criticism is worth it’s weight in feces

only actions or lack thereof hold value

we will soon find our definitions

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