pulled it off a shelf
dusty mason jars and
filtered autumnal light
surely this will be the same
surely this, this thing of ours
of you and i
of streets and beaches past
grab this moment by the tail
and wring it out
rough towel edges and dripping bitter taste
once was magic
dreams and blankets
now is only dusty
this is old and
this is tragic
i put it back
i shut the lid
i take a breath
and sneeze.
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