10.19.2005

The thing is . . .

Chuckles,
“how funny things are alone,”
he says, “why
stop at nothing when so
much more is on the line?”
Turns and
carries himself away,
eyes down like
he didn’t know himself.
“How much, how much.
It’s more, anyway,
than’s worth it.”
Justifies,
he can know best himself,
and all the in-betweens,
the MIAs,
compunction makes his allies
neverquiteknowinghimselflikehealwaysthoughthedidandbelievedheshould
still
“Why think about it? Why
bother?”
It’s not so
bad
after all.

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