Heat like a hand over your mouth and nose. Heat like old age.
You’re scrolling news, screen-eyed, on the porch: who
tweeted what/the latest must-read.
Sometimes you’re in two places at once,
isn’t that so?
both awake and asleep, in love and not. Sometimes,
your arm is touched so lightly, you barely notice.
And yet you do. A finger of cool air,
like a child, insists you attend. Change can be
Birds begin talking to each other.
Nubile clouds appear. And you turn
in a breath to see what the small world asks
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