from bed, listening

She only used black pens on crossword puzzles, i watched as she made the precise messy double fold of thursday’s paper filling in with rounded ‘e’ and capital ‘H’ while finding words for beige and tap tap tapping her pen on bent denim knees. she should have worn glasses it would have completed my thoughts and as she got up to leave i noticed a spot, a spilled sign from the bottomless cup a mystery left, but she’s just someone’s friend, a daughter maybe a mother means nothing to me i’m a casual observer of oddities and traits i see the furniture not the crates i reach down and try to pack up i stop frozen by the managers cup he hates me telling you this but they’re all plants secret spies getting jacked up to create a scene for you to fulfill a magazine fantasy wrought with bullshit cigarette smoke and carousel rides there never was a darker time just a rewind button on parking fines nothing can penetrate your americano buzz it was the funnies not your height that brought new characters square into the light if she passed by again you wouldn’t know another person in this skit hopped up on blow a transcended being feeding our senses and she can’t spell or complete sentences it’s blue ink we need to make this official, so get up and leave it’s all just a show.

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