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I'm standing in the doorway, looking for your eyes.
You had been gone for a while so I came down to greet you -
you are already lost in another world.
Maybe I ask something about your day. Maybe you answer.
My words are barely audible but they echo in my head at
one thousand decibels.
I go to the kitchen and hide. A glass of juice and an
empty gaze out the window. Why can't I think of anything?
I didn't think anything could be drier than this bread.
My mind drifts; it's me and I'm running into you. I grab
your shoulders tightly and shake you with all my might. My
eyes are as wide as saucers and they beg for you to look
past the pupils -- crumbs on the cutting board again,
coffee ring counter tops.
We cuddle for the cameras and I am at my happiest. But
then I go ahead and ruin it with inappropriate hands. For
someone not on top of their game, I seem to require a lot.
A phone call and a cigarette ends it all abruptly. I am
not a musician, but I play one on TV.