Early morning birds
in a frenzy,
the cat licks his belly,
forgetting the hunt,
yesterday’s feathers
still on the mat.
I wish I had his memory,
or lack thereof.
I cannot seem to forget,
where I put a piece of paper,
yes. But not a wound.
Ambushed in old neighborhoods
by the shards of a former life.
Driving through alleys,
the back entrances
I used to take.


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