on certain days that circle twice and curl up
like a cat (or the corners of your peculiar smile)
i believe i’m the only one who sees how ducks
take naps at 3pm, or how the hairs on your arms
taunt the breeze of a trepidatious day.
on certain days that lay over like ferns in a
softly wooded cashmere forest i believe
the world can have magnetic poles capable of
keeping us straight and narrow, but only if we choose
to ignore the way the auroras confound the sky.
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