dreams

{i’m trying some new things…progress is slow, but isn’t it always?}

cutting canned pineapples in the sink
with the faucet on, tears too
pouring fourth, watching
her reflection, her
long black hair, thick
like a cloak of stiff silk and
narrow eyes
as dark as raisins.
only because she had misunderstood
what i had meant to say
about the pineapples
already in the pan.

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