I cannot sleep
tonight. I see my life flash
in yours
and am all but fine
for the taking. For the most part,
today was anxious
and unkempt, but now
the streets are quiet. Tonight the moon
cannot deny November
any more than I can
deny you the hangover of sentience.
And, when my eyes
finally close, and sleep's cousin
settles softly around tonight, there will be you
with plangent strides
talking heads
above this place, because today
I willed you from whole cloth.
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