I’ll never stop
cutting these holes and creating a new tunnel.
To live with the old
is to live in a shadow-
I think it was on a box of cereal or something.
The silver spoon banks the hum from the kitchen light
and burns a hole through the wall.
Panic- yes- mom is gonna kill me.
She hasn’t lived here in ages though,
and the one you want is out hiking,
you’re alone-
looking through a hole that was already there
and a bowl of cereal has been out for ten minutes-
it’s soggy.
Work is late- late for work
can’t stop staring at the hole in the wall
the next morning will come-
she’ll still be gone
the hole will still be there
and the cereal will still be soggy.
oh dear. sounds like a bad day.
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