april sounds
it’s final cry
the heat returns
to texas.

yet i
am checked out.

for new horizons
different sounds
than the mockingbirds
and ravens.

yet here i sit
with coffee
dreading the commute
to another day
in the same

nameless white blood cell
to the spleen.

back to writing
this evening.

searching for the escape
from the doldrums
of running
in circles.

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