Thursday, June 19, 2008 of one...

how many times

have we written about phone calls

or lines that didn't connect

like the ones in this poem

or the ones in the conversations

I have with myself

that are recorded 

on my friend's machines

This is the vacancy

that is lurking

when you don't want it to

this is the consumption

of thought 

the rumble of the stomach

when one's solitude

becomes their worst allergen

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